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QUEEN  ELIZABETH’S 
MAIDS  OF  HONOUR 


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BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


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Illustrated  Demy  8vo 


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QUEEN  ELIZABETH’S 
MAIDS  OF  HONOUR 

AND  LADIES  OF  THE  PRIVY  CHAMBER 

BY  VIOLET  A.  WILSON 

WITH  TWELVE  PORTRAITS 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  COMPANY 
68 1  FIFTH  AVENUE 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  at 

The  Mayflower  Press,  Plymouth,  William  Brendon  &  Son,  Ltd. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Mart  Fitton  ....... 

From  a  portrait  at  Arbury.  By  permission  of  Sir 
Newdigate-Newdegate.  (Photo,  Shakespeare  Plead  Press.) 


Vi  ? 


Frontispiece 

Francis 


Facing  page 

Lady  Catherine  Grey  and  her  Child  .....  20 

From  a  portrait  at  Syon  House.  By  permission  of  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland. 


Queen  Elizabeth . -44 

From  the  portrait  at  Ditchley.  By  permission  of  Viscount 
Dillon.  (Photo,  Clarendon  Press.) 

Queen  Elizabeth  Dancing  with  the  Earl  of  Leicester  .  .  78 

From  a  picture  at  Penshurst.  By  permission  of  Lord  de  L’Isle 
and  Dudley.  (Photo,  “The  Connoisseur.”) 

Mary  Sydney,  Countess  of  Pembroke  .....  102 

From  a  miniature  in  the  Victoria  and  Albert  Museum.  By 
permission  of  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch. 

Kate  Carey,  Countess  of  Nottingham  .  .  .  .132 

From  a  portrait  by  Marcus  Gheeraerts  the  Younger.  By  per¬ 
mission  of  Major  the  Hon.  Harold  Pearson.  (Photo,  Messrs. 
Sotheby’s.) 

Elizabeth  Howard,  Lady  Southwell  .....  144 

From  a  portrait  by  Marcus  Gheesaerts  the  Younger.  By  per¬ 
mission  of  Major  the  Hon.  Harold  Pearson.  (Photo,  Messrs. 
Sotheby’s.) 


Elizabeth  Throckmorton,  Lady  Raleigh  .  .  .  .172 

From  a  portrait  at  Knole.  By  permission  of  Lord  Sackville. 

Mary  Radclyffe  .........  200 

From  a  portrait  at  Thurso.  By  permission  of  Major  Radclyffe. 

Elizabeth  Bridges  as  a  Girl  of  Fourteen  ....  220 

From  a  portrait  at  Woburn  Abbey.  By  permission  of  the 
Duke  of  Bedford. 

Elizabeth  Vernon,  Countess  of  Southampton  .  .  .  232 

From  a  portrait  at  Boughton.  By  permission  of  the  Duke  of 
Buccleuch. 

Ann  Russell,  Lady  Herbert  .  .  .  .  .  .  .258 

From  a  portrait  at  Badminton.  By  permission  of  the  Duke  of 
Beaufort.  (Photo,  Walpole  Society.) 


357824 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH’S 
MAIDS  OF  HONOUR 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH’S 
MAIDS  OF  HONOUR 


CHAPTER  I 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  once  asked  a  French 
nobleman  what  he  thought  of  her  ladies.  The 
visitor,  an  adroit  courtier  well  skilled  in  the 
subtle  art  of  flattery,  refused  to  make  any  comment  on 
them  whatsoever,  protesting  his  inability  “to  judge  stars 
in  the  presence  of  the  sun.”1  This  answer  pleased  the 
Queen,  and  at  the  same  time  aptly  defined  the  position 
occupied  by  her  Maids  of  Honour,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
set  off  their  mistress’s  glory,  but  in  no  wise  deflect  it  unto 
themselves. 

Elizabeth,  with  true  Tudor  love  of  pageantry  and 
colour,  fully  realized  the  spectacular  value  of  a  gorgeous 
setting,  so  that  from  the  first  she  took  care  to  surround 
herself  with  all  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  splendid 
palaces,  rich  furniture,  elaborate  dresses  and  magnificent 
jewellery. 

In  this  handsome  background  the  Maids  of  Honour 
occupied  a  conspicuous  and  highly  decorative  place. 
Beautiful,  well  born,  highly-educated  girls,  they  were 
fitted  both  by  birth  and  accomplishments  to  be  the 
intimate  companions  of  their  royal  mistress.  Dressed  in 

1  Sir  Richard  Baker’s  Chronicle,  The  Raigne  of  Elizabeth. 

3 


4  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

white  and  silver,  they  grouped  themselves  round  the 
Queen,  and  were  essentially  a  part  of  a  well  arranged 
picture  designed  for  the  enhancement  of  regal  majesty. 
Unfortunately  they  evinced  considerable  disinclination  to 
remain  in  the  background,  and  individual  stars  twinkled  so 
brightly  that  they  seriously  distracted  the  young  courtiers 
from  their  rapt  contemplation  of  the  Elizabethan  sun. 

This  propensity  caused  much  trouble  at  Court, 
entailing  hard  words,  frequently  accompanied  by  still 
harder  blows  from  the  royal  hand  for  the  delinquent 
Maids  of  Honour,  whilst  their  luckless  admirers  had 
ample  time  for  reflection  or  repentance  during  the 
constraints  of  imprisonment. 

The  ladies’  conduct  appeared  the  more  reprehensible 
in  the  Queen’s  eyes  from  the  fact  that  she  constantly 
extolled  the  superior  merits  of  virginity,  and  sought  to 
impregnate  them  with  her  own  aversion  to  matrimony. 
Discoursing  at  large  on  the  subject  which  formed  a 
constant  theme  in  the  privy  chamber,  Elizabeth  would 
ask  the  girls  for  their  opinion.  The  Maids  of  Honour 
with  well  simulated  aversion  unhesitatingly  professed 
abhorrence  of  the  wiles  of  wilful  men,  declaring  thoughts 
of  marriage  never  so  much  as  entered  their  heads.  After 
which  sentiments  they  promptly  embroiled  themselves 
in  the  labyrinths  of  intricate  love  affairs. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-five  Elizabeth  had  little  to  fear 
from  comparison  with  other  women,  for  various  chron¬ 
iclers  testified  to  her  good  looks. 

“She  was  a  lady  of  great  beauty,  of  decent  stature,  and 
of  an  excellent  shape.  In  her  youth  she  was  adorned  with 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  5 

more  than  usual  maiden  modesty;  her  skin  was  pure 
white,  and  her  hair  of  a  yellow  colour  ;  her  eyes  were 
beautiful  and  lovely.  In  short,  her  whole  body  was  well 
made,  and  her  face  was  adorned  with  a  wonderful  beauty 
and  majesty.”1 

Her  admirer  claimed  that  she  had  all  the  virtues  belong¬ 
ing  to  both  sexes,  without  the  faults  considered  peculiar 
to  her  own,  save  “a  little  unsteadiness  in  her  will”; 
another  opinion  “she  had  more  valour  in  her  than  was 
fit  for  a  woman.”2 

Besides  physical  beauty — by  which  she  set  great  store — 
Elizabeth  possessed  clever  brains,  shrewd  judgment  and 
nimble  wit,  with  considerable  powers  of  acumen,  which 
stood  her  in  good  stead  through  her  long  reign.  Her 
mind,  too,  had  been  well  trained,  for  in  Tudor  times 
education  was  a  solid  matter  laid  down  on  the  same  lines 
for  men  and  women.  Learning  of  all  kinds  had  come  to 
be  held  in  high  esteem,  for  knowledge — no  longer  shut 
up  in  the  monasteries — spread  its  enlightening  influence 
throughout  the  land,  awaking  fresh  desires,  and  thrusting 
aside  the  baffling  ignorance  of  mediaeval  times. 

It  was  an  age  pre-eminent  of  romance,  a  world  electric 
with  portents  of  fresh  discoveries;  new  lands  were  being 
sought  for,  new  ventures  undertaken,  new  inventions 
perfected,  new  luxuries  coming  into  general  use.  Printed 
books,  though  few  at  first,  rapidly  increased,  being  read 
with  avidity  by  men  and  women  alike,  eager  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  splendid  future  which  lay  before  them. 

Elizabeth  appointed  a  librarian  at  Whitehall  Palace, 

1  Bohun’s  Character  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

2  Sir  R.  Baker’s  Chronicle. 


6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

and  under  his  charge  the  shelves  quickly  filled  with  books 
of  the  time.  These  were  especially  bound  in  coloured 
velvet,  stamped  in  gold  with  the  Queen’s  Arms,  and  the 
clasps  encrusted  with  precious  stones.  Foreign  literature 
also,  was  well  represented,  the  Queen  being  an  exception¬ 
ally  clever  linguist.  She  not  only  read  but  spoke  various 
tongues  with  fluent  accuracy,  could  address  the  univer¬ 
sities  in  Greek,  trounce  a  malapert  ambassador  in  vigorous 
Latin,  or  fish  for  compliments  with  equal  facility  in 
French,  Italian  or  Spanish. 

Clever  herself,  Elizabeth  had  no  patience  with  stupidity, 
but  liked  to  surround  herself  with  people  whose  quick 
brains  were  attuned  to  her  own.  The  Maids  of  Honour 
were  famous  for  their  accomplishments:  they  spoke 
several  languages,  were  good  musicians,  clever  needle¬ 
women,  graceful  dancers,  and  proficient  horsewomen. 
Nor  were  they  behindhand  in  domestic  pursuits,  being 
ever  ready  to  try  their  hands  at  cookery  when  the  Palace 
cooks,  usually  “  musical  headed  Frenchmen,”  could  be 
prevailed  on  to  demonstrate  the  mysteries  appertaining  to 
sugar-plate,  kissing  comfits,  gingerbreads,  sugar  meats,  or 
the  most  delectable  confectionery  known  as  marchpane.1 

From  their  nearness  to  the  Queen’s  person,  the  Maids 
of  Honour  were  objects  of  solicitude  to  the  courtiers, 
who  pressed,  and  not  infrequently  bribed  them  to  further 
their  suits  with  the  Queen.  Sometimes  they  were  success¬ 
ful,  often  they  were  not;  so  much  depended  on  the 
nature  of  the  favour  sought,  the  personality  of  the  suitor, 
the  influence  of  the  lady,  and  the  caprice  of  the  Queen. 

1  “Save  me  a  piece  of  marchpane,”  Romeo  and  Juliet ,  I,  5. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  7 

Courtiers  differed  in  their  estimation  of  this  method  of 
gaining  the  royal  ear;  many  regarding  the  ladies’  help  as 
indispensable,  whilst  others  declared  ungallantly  that  “like 
witches,  they  could  do  hurt,  but  they  could  do  no  good.”1 

Elizabeth  did  not  encourage  the  ladies  to  meddle  in 
political  matters  when  she  had  withdrawn  with  them 
to  her  own  apartments  and  wished  to  forget  the  cares  of 
State.  She  was,  however,  by  no  means  averse  to  anything 
in  the  nature  of  gossip,  and  so  well  did  the  ladies  keep 
their  mistress  supplied  with  all  the  current  scandal  that 
Sir  William  Cecil2  and  other  members  of  the  Council 
were  frequently  chagrined  to  find  the  Queen  intimately 
acquainted  with  matters  of  which  they  had  fondly  hoped 
to  keep  her  in  ignorance. 

On  ascending  the  throne  in  1558,  Elizabeth,  when 
making  choice  of  the  ladies  of  her  privy  chamber,  did 
not  forget  those  friends  who  had  stood  by  her  in  the  dark 
days  of  Queen  Mary’s  reign,  when  she  was  but  a  doubt¬ 
fully  legitimate  princess  whose  head  sat  very  insecurely 
on  her  shoulders.  Elizabeth’s  former  governess  and 
closest  confidante,  Mrs.  Ashley,  who  had  suffered 
imprisonment  for  devotion  to  her  pupil’s  cause,  received 
an  honourable  appointment  in  the  household,  whilst 
Mrs.  Blanche  Parry3,  who  had  rocked  the  little  princess 
in  her  cradle,  became  chief  gentlewoman  of  the  privy 
chamber  and  keeper  of  Her  Majesty’s  jewels. 

Mistress  Blanche  loved  to  dabble  in  the  dark  mysteries 

1  Bacon’s  Apophthegms. 

2  Principal  Secretary,  afterwards  created  Lord  Burleigh. 

3  d.  of  Henry  Parry,  of  Newcourt,  Herefordshire.  “Mrs.”  was 
the  usual  prefix  for  unmarried  ladies. 


8  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

of  the  occult,  and  was  a  great  crony  of  Dr.  John  Dee,  the 
Mortlake  astronomer,  who  through  her  influence  was 
instructed  to  consult  the  stars  in  their  courses  and  fix  an 
auspicious  day  for  the  Queen’s  coronation. 

Blanche  Parry  made  a  special  study  of  palmistry,  and 
on  long  winter  evenings  when  the  curtains  were  drawn 
and  the  wood  fire  crackled  cheerfully  in  the  big  open 
hearth,  the  girls  brought  gay-hued  cushions  and  sat 
round  “Mrs.  Blanche,”  stretching  out  their  slim  hands 
for  her  to  tell  their  fortunes.  If  the  palmist  read  the  lines 
truly  she  must  needs  have  prevaricated,  for  fate  held  hard 
things  in  store  for  several  of  the  merry,  light-hearted  girls. 

When  Lady  Catherine  Grey’s1  turn  came,  Mrs.  Parry, 
with  full  knowledge  of  the  girl’s  difficult  position  from 
her  nearness  to  the  throne,  took  opportunity  to  convey  a 
timely  warning,  saying  gravely,  “The  lines  say,  madam, 
that  if  you  ever  marry  without  the  Queen’s  consent  in 
writing,  you  and  your  husband  will  be  undone,  and  your 
fate  worse  than  that  of  my  Lady  Jane.” 

Lady  Catherine  and  her  elfish  little  sister,  Lady  Mary, 
though  treated  just  the  same  as  the  other  girls,  were  in 
point  of  fadl  very  differently  situated,  for  if  Elizabeth 
died  without  issue  they  stood  next  in  the  succession. 
Henry  VIII,  in  his  will,  left  the  crown  in  rotation  to  his 
own  children,  Edward  VI,  Mary,  Elizabeth,  and  after 
them  to  his  younger  sister,  Mary,  the  ex-Queen  of  France2, 
thus  passing  over  the  claim  of  his  elder  sister,  Margaret, 

1  d.  of  Henry  Grey,  Duke  of  Suffolk. 

2m.,  1st,  Louis  XII;  2ndly,  Charles  Brandon,  Duke  of  Suffolk. 
Two  daughters.  Frances  m.  Henry  Grey,  Duke  of  Suffolk,  and 
wa6  the  mother  of  the  Ladies  Jane,  Catherine,  and  Mary  Grey. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  9 

Queen  of  Scotland.1  This  deposition  caused  endless 
dissension:  it  made  the  three  Grey  sisters  the  centre 
of  intrigue;  caused  the  death  of  the  eldest,  Lady  Jane, 
the  nine  days’  Queen,  and  created  two  rival  parties  who 
supported  the  claims  of  the  Greys  or  their  cousin,  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots. 

Elizabeth  loved  her  young  relatives  not  at  all,  but  she 
deemed  it  politic  to  give  them  posts  in  the  privy  chamber, 
where  they  would  be  direftly  under  her  very  vigilant 
eye.  Lady  Catherine,  small,  red-haired,  with  a  spice  of 
Tudor  temper  which  flared  up  and  frequently  got  her 
into  trouble  with  the  Queen,  regarded  the  position  of 
Maid  of  Honour  as  derogatory  to  her  rank.  She,  however, 
found  consolation  in  the  fa£t  that  it  gave  her  the  close 
companionship  of  her  greatest  friend,  Lady  Jane  Seymour, 
another  of  the  Maids. 

Lady  Jane’s  ambitious  father,  the  Protedfor  Somerset,2 
had  schemed  to  marry  her  to  the  boy  King  Edward  VI, 
and  would  probably  have  done  so  had  not  his  enemies 
caused  that  and  many  other  cherished  plans  to  go  awry, 
and  himself  to  expiate  his  offences  on  Tower  Hill. 

Lady  Jane,  a  clever  delicate  girl,  had  the  reputation 
of  being  one  of  the  most  learned  ladies  of  the  day.  At 
ten  years  old  she  had,  with  her  two  elder  sisters,  written 
“four  hundred  Latin  distich’s  upon  the  death  of  the 
Queen  of  Navarre.”8  This  display  of  erudition  did  not 

1  Eldest  d.  of  Henry  VII;  m.  James  IV  of  Scotland;  her  son, 
James  V,  was  the  father  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots. 

a  Edward  Seymour,  1st  Earl  of  Hertford  and  Duke  of  Somerset, 
beheaded  1552. 

3  Ballard’s  Eminent  Ladies. 


io  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  EIonour 

mark  Lady  Jane  as  one  apart  from  the  other  Maids  of 
Honour,  for  at  Court  she  laid  aside  her  youthful  pre¬ 
cocity,  and  though  still  fond  of  books,  devoted  much 
time  to  music  and  singing,  whilst  when  occasion  offered, 
she  displayed  great  adfivity  as  a  match-maker. 

Other  Maids  of  Honour  were  Ann  Russell,1  Katherine 
Knevett,2  and  five  of  the  Queen’s  young  kinswomen. 
Kate  and  Philadelphia  Carey,3  Lettice  and  Cecilia 
Knollys,4  and  Mary  Howard,5  of  whom  Richard  Edwards® 
of  the  Chapel  Royal,  wrote  in  estimation: 

“Howarde  is  not  haughte 
But  of  such  smylinge  cheare 
That  wolde  alure  eche  gentill  harte 
His  love  to  holde  full  dere.” 

The  bright-eyed  Maids  of  Honour  led  a  gay  life 
consequent  on  their  attendance  on  a  vivacious  young 
Queen  whose  youth  and  beauty,  combined  with  a  memory 
of  her  past  sufferings,  fired  the  imagination,  whilst  it 
quickened  the  love  of  her  people. 

At  tilts  and  tourneys  young  men,  aglow  with  ardour, 
burned  to  distinguish  themselves  in  the  eyes  of  such  a 
mistress.  One  valiant  courtier,  Sir  Henry  Lee,  openly 

1  d.  of  Francis,  2nd  Earl  of  Bedford. 

2  d.  of  Henry  Knevett,  of  Buckenham,  Norfolk. 

3  d.’s  of  Henry  Carey,  Lord  Hunsdon,  whose  mother,  Mary 
Boleyn,  was  a  sister  of  Ann  Boleyn. 

4  d.’s  of  Sir  Francis  Knollys  and  his  wife,  Catherine  Carey, 
daughter  of  Mary  Boleyn. 

5  d.  of  William,  1st  Baron  Howard  of  Effingham,  the  Queen’s 
grand-uncle. 

6  Richard  Edwards,  poet  and  playwright,  master  of  the 
children  of  the  Chapel  Royal,  died  1566. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  ii 

dedicated  himself  the  Queen’s  own  champion,  solemnly 
making  a  vow  that  he  would  tilt  yearly  in  her  honour 
till  the  dim  obscurity  of  old  age  rendered  him  incapable 
of  martial  exercise. 

The  good  citizens  of  London  were  every  whit  as 
anxious  to  show  their  loyalty  as  the  courtiers  at  West¬ 
minster,  and  received  the  Queen  with  acclamations  of  joy 
whenever  she  appeared  among  them. 

One  soft  April  evening  when  the  silvery  Thames 
rippled  invitingly  between  its  banks,  Elizabeth  with  her 
retinue  entered  the  gilded  State  barge  manned  by 
liveried  oarsmen,  and  rowed  up  towards  the  city.  Snowy 
plumaged  swans  followed  in  its  wake,  as  the  barge  glided 
past  the  green  fields  and  lovely  gardens  lying  between 
Westminster  and  London. 

The  Thames  watermen  congregated  at  the  public 
stairs,  spread  news  of  the  Queen’s  approach,  and  very 
soon  reaped  rich  harvest  from  eager  sightseers  all  anxious 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  young  Queen  as  she  passed 
slowly  along. 

“The  barge  she  sat  in,  like  a  burnish’d  throne, 

Burn’d  on  the  water;  the  poop  was  beaten  gold, 

Purple  the  sails,  and  so  perfumed  that 

The  winds  were  love-sick  with  them,  the  oars  were  silver, 

Which  to  the  tune  of  flutes  kept  stroke,  and  made 

The  water  which  they  beat  to  follow  faster, 

As  amorous  of  their  strokes.”1 

1  Antony  and  Cleo-patra,  II,  2.  Shakespeare,  when  writing  this 
description  of  a  State  barge,  doubtless  had  in  mind  the  one  used 
by  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  which  he  must  often  have  seen  on  the 
Thames. 


12  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Court  musicians  played  with  a  will,  but  their  efforts 
were  quite  outdone  in  volume  by  the  loyal  citizens,  who 
despite  their  haste  had  thoughtfully  provided  themselves 
with  whatsoever  noise  producing  instruments  came  first 
to  hand.  With  extreme  vigour  did  they  perform  on  drums, 
trumpets  and  flutes,  their  efforts  being  augmented  by 
the  ringing  of  church  bells,  discharge  of  cannon,  to  say 
nothing  of  squibs  hurled  into  the  air  by  exuberant 
youngsters. 

Grey  evening  purpled  into  dusk,  the  lights  of  London 
twinkled  up  at  the  stars  above,  but  not  till  ten  o’clock 
did  the  royal  barge  return  to  Whitehall,  where  Sergeant- 
porter  Keyes,  keeper  of  the  Watergate,  awaited  it  with  his 
memand  torch-bearers. 

Lord  Robert  Dudley,1  master  of  the  horse,  handed 
out  the  Queen,  whilst  less  privileged  courtiers  offered 
eager  assistance  to  the  Maids  of  Honour.  The  girls 
gathered  their  wraps  round  them  as  they  walked  through 
the  Palace  garden,  where  the  scent  of  pale  spring  flowers 
hung  in  the  air,  and  the  earth  seemed  throbbing  with  the 
insistent  vitality  that  pulsates  through  the  nights  of  early 
spring. 

Laughing  and  chattering  together,  the  young  people 
were  loath  to  go  indoors,  but  the  “mother  of  the  maids,” 
a  discreet  chaperon  responsible  for  her  charges’  good 
behaviour,  would  allow  no  loitering,  and  indoors  the  girls 
had  to  go. 

1  Robert  Dudley,  afterwards  Earl  of  Leicester,  fifth  son  of 
John,  Duke  of  Northumberland,  and  brother  of  Lord  Guildford 
Dudley,  the  husband  of  Lady  Jane  Grey. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  13 

Their  “mother”  might  see  her  charges  safely  indoors, 
or  even  up  to  their  own  dormitory,  but  once  there  she 
held  no  jurisdiction  over  their  lively  tongues.  The  girls 
always  had  plenty  to  talk  about,  and  enlivened  the  process 
of  hair-brushing  with  comments  on  the  day’s  happenings, 
and  the  progress  of  their  own  particular  love  affairs. 

Their  next  door  neighbour,  grave  Sir  Francis  Knollys1, 
found  the  noise  made  by  his  daughters  and  their  friends 
well-nigh  distracting,  for  “the  Mayds  of  Honour  used 
to  frisk  and  hey  about  in  the  next  room  to  his  extreme 
disquiete  at  nights,  though  he  had  often  warned  them 
of  it;  at  last  he  getts  one  to  bolt  their  own  backe  door, 
when  they  were  all  in  one  night  at  their  revells,  stripps 
to  his  shirt,  and  so  with  a  payre  of  spectacles  on  his  nose, 
and  Aretine  in  his  hand,  come  marching  in  at  the  posterne 
doore  of  his  own  chamber,  reading  very  gravely,  full 
upon  the  faces  of  them.  Now  let  the  reader  judge  what 
a  sadd  speCtacle  a  pittifull  fright  these  poor  creatures 
endur’d,  for  he  faced  them  and  often  travest  the  roome 
in  this  posture  about  an  hour.”2 

1  Sir  Francis  Knollys,  Privy  Councillor  and  Vice-Chamberlain. 
Treasurer  of  the  royal  household  1572-96. 

2Thoms’s  Anecdotes  and  Traditions. 


CHAPTER  II 


NO  matter  what  time  they  went  to  bed  the  Maids 
of  Honour  had  to  be  up  betimes  next  morning, 
for  immediately  after  six  o’clock  breakfast  they 
attended  the  Queen  as  she  walked  in  the  garden.  It  was 
Elizabeth’s  hour  of  relaxation  before  Ministers  arrived  to 
consult  about  State  affairs,  and  she  made  the  most  of  it, 
laughing  or  talking  with  her  ladies  as  they  paced  the  palace 
grounds. 

The  garden  at  Whitehall  was  a  pleasurable  place  in  sum¬ 
mer;  broad  paths  ran  between  dew-spangled  lawns  broken 
by  trim  flower-beds,  fantastically  clipped  bushes,  and  tall 
gilded  columns  surmounted  by  grotesquely  carved  beasts. 
In  the  middle  of  the  garden  stood  a  sundial,  openly  re 
markable  for  the  fa 61  that  it  told  the  time  in  thirty 
different  ways.  It  also  possessed  a  thirty-first  claim  to 
notoriety  which  made  much  mirth  for  the  mischievous 
Maids  of  Honour.  With  extreme  willingness  they  offered 
to  show  strangers  the  sundial,  and  whilst  the  visitors  with 
puckered  brows  strove  to  define  the  hour  by  any  one  of  its 
thirty  devices,  the  girls  suddenly  turned  on  a  concealed 
hose,  adroitly  contrived  to  give  anyone  standing  by  the 
sundial  an  impromptu  shower-bath.  The  trick  could  only 
be  played  once,  but  with  so  many  strangers  coming  and 
going  at  Whitehall,  the  ladies  were  rarely  at  loss  for  a 
vidfim. 

Foreign  Ambassadors  arrived  with  much  pomp,  their 
portfolios  filled  with  matrimonial  projedts,  till  it  seemed 
as  if  all  the  eligible  princes  in  Europe  were  anxious  to 

14 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  15 

make  offer  of  their  hands  and  hearts  to  the  fair  young 
Queen  of  England.  Elizabeth  heard  them  graciously, 
feasted  them  royally,  showed  them  the  sights  of  London, 
and  the  treasures  of  her  palaces;  inclined  a  highly  appreci¬ 
ative  ear  to  their  facile  flattery  of  her  unparalleled  charms, 
but  remained  obdurately  deaf  to  marriage  proposals. 

To  entertain  the  visitors,  Elizabeth  arranged  a  ballet 
to  be  performed  by  the  Maids  of  Honour,  representing 
the  parable  of  the  Wise  and  Foolish  Virgins,  as  depidfed 
in  a  set  of  tapestry  hangings  which  adorned  one  of  the 
State  rooms  at  Greenwich  Palace. 

The  girls  entered  whole-heartedly  into  the  idea,  but 
at  rehearsals  they  found  their  mistress  hard  to  please. 
Seated  on  a  chair  in  the  privy  chamber  she  watched  with 
critical  eyes  as  the  “Virgins  ”  pradlised  their  steps.  In  no 
gentle  terms  did  she  chide  when  they  made  mistakes; 
over  and  over  again  would  she  rehearse  the  difficult  parts, 
till  the  girls  were  ready  to  drop  with  weariness.  Elizabeth’s 
own  nimble  feet  beat  a  tattoo  to  the  music,  and  often, 
descending  from  her  seat,  she  lifted  her  farthingale  to 
display  a  trim  pair  of  ankles  as  she  enadled  the  part  of 
dancing  mistress. 

At  length  the  eventful  evening  arrived,  and  to  the 
distinguished  visitors  it  seemed  as  if  the  glowing  tapestry 
had  suddenly  come  to  life,  when  in  glided  the  wise  and 
foolish  virgins  swinging  richly  chased  silver  lamps.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  ballet,  the  performers  approached 
the  royal  dais  to  entreat  the  Queen  and  her  guests  to  join 
in  the  subsequent  revels. 

Throughout  all  this  gaiety  there  were  many  under- 


1 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

currents,  for  Kate  Carey,  Lettice  Knollys,  Ann  Russell 
and  Katerine  Knevett  all  had  secret,  but  progressive,  love 
affairs  of  great  interest  to  themselves,  but  of  less  momen¬ 
tous  consequence  to  the  State  than  that  of  Lady  Catherine 
Grey. 

So  long  as  Elizabeth  refused  to  marry  or  name  a 
successor — and  the  very  mention  of  either  threw  her  into 
a  paroxysm  of  rage — Lady  Catherine,  though  negledled 
and  kept  in  the  background,  was  the  next  heir  to  the 
throne.  The  ambiguity  of  her  position  made  marriage 
proposals  a  gamble  at  which  self-interested  suitors  fought 
shy.  If  the  lady  brought  the  crown  of  England  as  a  dowry, 
she  would  be  a  rich  prize,  but  should  Queen  Elizabeth 
marry,  then  the  husband  of  Lady  Catherine  might  find 
himself  in  a  difficult,  if  not  acutely  dangerous,  position. 

The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  had  caused  his  son  to  be 
affianced  to  Lady  Catherine  on  the  same  day  that  Lord 
Guildford  Dudley  married  Lady  Jane  Grey,  judged 
discretion  to  be  the  better  part  of  valour,  and  repudiated 
the  contradl. 

Philip  of  Spain,  who  wished  to  retain  a  hold  on  England 
by  marrying  his  sister-in-law,  Queen  Elizabeth,  instructed 
his  ambassador  to  keep  in  touch  with  Lady  Catherine, 
for,  if  the  former  projedt  failed,  he  entertained  the  idea 
of  kidnapping  her.  Sir  Thomas  Challoner,  the  English 
ambassador,  hearing  rumours  of  this  design,  wrote  thus 
to  warn  Sir  William  Cecil. 

“King  Philip  is  so  jealous  of  the  anticipated  power  of 
France,  by  the  alliance  of  young  Francis  the  Dauphin 
with  the  Queen  of  Scotland,  and  her  claim  to  the  crown 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  17 

of  England  that  he  positively  contemplates  stealing  Lady 
Catherine  Grey  out  of  the  realm,  and  marrying  her  to  his 
son,  Don  Carlos,  or  some  other  member  of  his  family,  and 
setting  up  her  title  against  that  of  Mary  Stuart,  as  the 
true  heiress  of  England.  Lady  Catherine  will  probably  be 
glad  to  go,  being  most  uncomfortably  situated  in  the 
English  Court  with  the  Queen,  who  cannot  well  abide  the 
sight  of  her,  neither  the  duchess  her  mother1  nor  her 
stepfather  love  her,  and  her  uncle  cannot  abide  to  hear  of 
her  so  she  lives  as  it  were  in  great  despair.  She  has  spoken 
very  arrogant  and  unseemly  words  in  the  hearing  of  the 
Queen  and  others  standing  by.  Hence  it  is  thought  that 
she  could  be  enticed  away  if  some  trusty  person  were  to 
speak  with  her.”* 

Count  de  Feria,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  so  far  made 
interest  with  Lady  Catherine  that  she  promised  not  to 
marry  anyone  without  first  consulting  him,  but  when  the 
right  man  appeared  she  threw  promises  and  prudence  alike 
to  the  winds. 

The  romance  began  at  Hanworth,  the  home  of  the 
Duchess  of  Somerset,  Lady  Jane  Seymour’s  mother. 
Lady  Jane  having  been  ill,  went  there  to  recover,  taking 
with  her  her  great  friend,  Lady  Catherine  Grey.  In  the 
beautiful  old  garden  at  Hanworth,  the  two  girls  spent  a 
happy  summer,  not  lessened,  for  either  of  them,  by  the 
presence  of  Lady  Jane’s  brother,  Edward.3 

1  Lady  Frances  Brandon,  after  the  execution  of  her  first  hus¬ 
band,  Henry  Grey,  Duke  of  Suffolk,  married  her  equerry,  Mr. 
Adrian  Stokes. 

2  Calendar  of  State  Papers.  Foreign.  1560. 

3  Edward  Seymour,  son  of  Protector  Somerset  by  his  second 
wife,  Anne  Stanhope,  educated  with  Edward  VI.  Created  Earl 
of  Hertford  1559. 

c 


1 8  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

The  young  man  had  a  natural  interest  in  Lady 
Catherine,  for  in  childhood  their  ambitious  fathers  had 
planned  a  marriage  between  the  two  families.  Now  that 
they  were  grown  up  and  the  match  no  more  spoken  of, 
both  felt  they  could  have  obeyed  their  parents’  wishes 
without  disinclination. 

A  year  or  two  later  when  the  girls  were  at  Court,  and 
the  Earl  of  Hertford  in  residence  at  his  house  in  Cannon 
Row,  Westminster,  he  contrived  to  see  a  good  deal  of 
Lady  Catherine.  The  intimacy  ripened  during  an  autumn 
progress  into  Kent,  when  the  Queen  paid  a  visit  to  Lady 
Cobham,  her  Mistress  of  the  Robes,  at  Cobham  Hall, 
where  “her  Grace  was  welcomed  with  great  chear.” 

The  Earl  of  Hertford  returned  to  London  with  his 
mind  made  up,  and  he  entreated  his  sister  to  find  out 
if  Lady  Catherine  felt  favourably  disposed  towards  him. 
Lady  Jane  readily  undertook  the  task,  and  subsequently 
arranged  a  meeting  in  her  own  private  sitting-room, 
which  opened  out  of  the  larger  one  used  by  the  Maids  of 
Honour. 

The  Earl  of  Hertford  professed  his  love ;  Lady 
Catherine  demurely  admitted  “that  she  liked  both  him 
and  his  offer,  and  thereupon  they  gave  one  to  the  other 
their  hands.”1 

Lady  Frances  Brandon’s  consent  had  to  be  obtained 
next,  so  the  Earl  of  Hertford  rode  over  to  Sheen  to 
“ask  her  good  will  that  he  might  marry  the  Lady 
Catherine,  her  daughter.” 

Personally,  Lady  Frances  had  no  objedlion,  for  she 
1  Harleian  MS.  6286. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  19 

liked  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  and  judged  that  Lady  Cather¬ 
ine  would  have  more  chance  of  happiness  married  to  the 
man  she  loved  than  wedde4  to  a  foreign  prince  who  would 
use  her  for  the  furtherance  of  his  own  ambition.  At  the 
same  time,  both  she  and  Adrian  Stokes  foresaw  that 
difficulties  might  arise  from  Lady  Catherine’s  nearness  to 
the  succession,  and  after  the  tragedy  which  had  befallen 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  they  feared  to  run  any  risk.  Before 
matters  went  further  they  insisted  that  the  Queen’s 
consent  must  be  asked,  though  this  all  concerned  were 
aware  would  be  by  no  means  an  easy  matter.  The  Earl  of 
Hertford  quailed  at  the  thought  of  a  personal  interview 
with  Elizabeth,  and  fully  concurred  with  Adrian  Stokes, 
that  a  carefully  worded  letter  would  be  more  likely  to 
put  the  matter  in  a  better  light  than  the  halting  explana¬ 
tions  of  a  nervous  young  man  confronted  by  his  liege 
majesty  in  full  tornado  of  Tudor  wrath. 

The  momentous  letter  was  drafted,  altered,  and  re¬ 
written,  but  never  sent,  for  before  it  satisfied  all  parties 
Lady  Frances  fell  dangerously  ill  and  died. 

Her  death  proved  a  heavy  blow  to  the  lovers,  who  had 
counted  so  much  on  her  assistance,  and  now  knew  not 
where  to  turn.  In  Lady  Jane’s  little  sitting-room  over¬ 
looking  Whitehall  gardens,  the  three  conspirators  dis¬ 
cussed  the  situation  in  all  its  bearings,  but  found  no  cause 
for  comfort  therein. 

At  length  they  could  bear  the  strain  no  longer;  seeing 
no  hope  of  gaining  the  Queen’s  consent  to  their  union, 
they  decided  to  do  without  it,  and  marry  secretly  at  the 
first  opportunity.  A  dare-devil  resolve,  as  they  very  well 


20  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

knew,  but  they  were  young  and  in  love,  with  a  hope  in  the 
future  strong  though  unsupported. 

Some  time  elapsed  before  the  plan  could  be  carried 
out,  but  one  day  when  the  Queen  announced  her 
intention  of  going  to  Eltham  for  a  few  days’  hunting, 
they  knew  their  chance  had  come.  The  other  girls  over¬ 
hauled  their  riding  apparel,  speculating  the  while  as  to 
who  would  go  and  who  stay  behind,  whilst  the  con¬ 
spirators  racked  their  brains  for  excuses  to  avoid  being 
chosen  for  the  hunting  party.  Lady  Jane,  always  delicate, 
was  fairly  safe,  but  Lady  Catherine,  being  by  no  means 
secure,  resorted  to  feigned  toothache.  Bitterly  did  she 
complain  of  the  pain  and,  the  more  to  advertise  her 
distressful  condition,  tied  up  a  supposedly  swollen  cheek 
in  a  large  pocket  handkerchief. 

The  ruse  succeeded,  and  half  an  hour  after  the  Queen’s 
departure  from  Whitehall  Lady  Catherine  and  Lady 
Jane  slipped  unobserved  out  of  the  Palace.  They  hastened 
through  the  deserted  gardens  towards  the  river  steps  at 
the  bottom  of  the  orchard,  avoiding  the  Watergate  lest 
Sergeant  Keyes,  always  a  friend  of  the  younger  Court 
ladies,  should  offer  embarrassing  assistance. 

It  was  a  dull  November  morning,  with  low-lying 
clouds  drifting  across  a  leaden  sky;  a  grey  river  running 
sluggishly  between  mud-banks,  whereon  flocks  of  long¬ 
necked  swans  preened  their  snowy  plumage. 

The  two  girls  lifted  their  skirts  as  they  hurried  along, 
their  shoes  squelching  in  the  mud  which  oozed  up  between 
the  pebble-strewn  beach  connecting  Whitehall  and 
Westminster. 


Coll,  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland 


LADY  CATHERINE  GREY  AM)  HER  CHILD 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  21 

At  length  they  reached  Cannon  Row  and,  climbing 
up  the  green-slimed  stairs  at  the  bottom  of  the  Earl  of 
Hertford’s  garden,  hastened  towards  the  house,  letting 
themselves  in  by  the  kitchen  door. 

The  Earl  of  Hertford,  in  preparation  for  the  wedding, 
had  sent  his  servants  abroad  on  different  errands;  he 
had  bought  the  ring,  and  provided  refreshments,  but  he 
had  quite  overlooked  the  fa£t  that  even  for  the  most 
secret  wedding  a  clergyman  of  one  denomination  or 
another  is  an  actual  necessity. 

Lady  Jane  noticed  the  omission  at  once,  and  realizing 
that  lovers  are  inconsequent  people  to  deal  with,  hurried 
off  in  search  of  a  priest.  One  she  found,  short,  elderly, 
and  wearing  a  fur-trimmed  black  gown,  and  him  she 
brought  back  with  all  speed  to  Cannon  Row. 

The  ceremony  took  place  in  a  large  upper  chamber,  the 
clergyman  standing  with  his  back  to  the  big,  mullioned 
window;  the  bride  and  bridegroom  before  him,  and  Lady 
Jane  officiating  as  bridesmaid. 

The  five-pieced  ring  which  the  Earl  of  Hertford  placed 
on  Lady  Catherine’s  finger  had  engraved  on  it  the  words: 

“As  circles  five  by  art  compact,  shewe  but  one  ring  in  sight 
So  trust  unieth  faithfull  mindes,  with  knott  of  secret  might. 
Whose  force  to  break  but  greedie  death  no  wight  posseth  power. 
As  tyme  and  sequele  well  shall  prove,  my  ring  can  saie  noe  more.” 

Lady  Jane  gave  the  priest  ten  pounds  for  his  trouble, 
and  warned  the  newly-married  pair  that  it  would  not  do 
to  tarry  much  longer,  lest  Mrs.  Ashley,  who  remained  in 
charge  during  the  Queen’s  absence,  should  ask  incon¬ 
venient  questions. 


22  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

As  the  tide  had  risen,  the  girls  could  not  walk  back,  so 
the  Earl  of  Hertford  called  one  of  his  watermen  to  row 
them  up  to  Whitehall.  They  reached  the  Palace  in  plenty 
of  time  to  change  their  muddy  things  before  dinner,  when 
they  took  their  places  at  the  comptroller’s  table  without 
anyone  having  a  suspicion  of  what  had  taken  place. 

A  few  days  later  the  Queen  returned  from  her  hunting 
expedition,  and  during  the  usual  round  of  gaiety  the 
Earl  of  Hertford  and  Lady  Catherine  were  constantly 
together. 

They  shared  a  common  anxiety,  too,  for  Lady  Jane’s 
health  became  gradually  wrorse,  so  that  Elizabeth,  with 
whom  she  was  a  favourite,  allowed  her  to  absent  herself 
from  many  of  her  duties  as  Maid  of  Honour.  The  two 
whose  interests  were  so  bound  up  with  hers  spent  all  the 
time  they  could  with  the  sick  girl.  Sitting  round  the  fire 
the  three  made  many  plans,  which,  viewed  in  the  golden 
haze  of  the  future,  seemed  feasible  enough  compared 
with  the  hard  reality  of  the  present,  with  the  fear  of  the 
Queen’s  anger  shadowing  their  young  lives. 

Lady  Jane  always  seemed  so  bright  and  cheerful  that 
those  around  her  failed  to  realize  the  seriousness  of  the 
disease  which  day  by  day  drew  her  back  into  the  shadows, 
till  on  the  20th  of  March,  1561,  the  wings  of  death 
suddenly  closed  over  her. 

The  Queen  and  all  the  ladies  of  the  privy  chamber  took 
the  girl’s  death  bitterly  to  heart,  and  two  hundred 
mourners,  including  all  the  Maids  of  Honour,  followed 
the  funeral  procession  to  Westminster  Abbey,  where  Lady 
Jane  was  buried  in  St.  Edmund’s  Chapel. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  23 

The  Earl  of  Hertford  raised  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  his  favourite  sister  with  an  inscription  in 
verse: 

“On  the  Death  of  Lady  Jane  Somerset 

For  genius  fam’d,  for  beauty  lov’d: 

Jane  bade  the  world  admire: 

Her  voice  harmonious  notes  improv’d, 

Her  hand  the  tunefull  lyre. 

Venus  and  Pallas  claim’d  this  maid, 

Each  as  her  right  alone, 

But  death  superior  pow’r  display’d 
And  seiz’d  her  as  his  own. 

Her  virgin  dust  this  mournfull  tomb, 

In  kindred  Earth  contains 

Her  soul  which  Fate  can  ne’er  consume 

In  endless  glory  reigns.”1 

1  Haddon’s  Poems.  These  verses  have  now  disappeared  and  only 
a  tablet  on  the  wall  remains  to  the  memory  of  Lady  Jane  Seymour. 


CHAPTER  III 


LADY  CATHERINE  was  lonely  and  fearful,  for 
her  secret,  just  bearable  when  shared  with 
.^sympathetic  Lady  Jane,  seemed  almost  too  heavy 
to  be  borne  alone.  Her  sister  Mary  was  too  young,  and  the 
only  living  things  to  whom  she  could  whisper  the  great 
event  in  her  life  were  to  the  uncomprehending  ears  of  her 
pets.  Of  these  Lady  Catherine  had  many;  her  room  at 
Court  seemed  full  of  animals,  little  spaniels  curled  up  on 
the  rush-strewn  floor,  silky-coated  Maltese  snugly  asleep 
on  cushions,  white-whiskered  marmosets  chattering  on 
their  mistress’s  coffer-chest  at  the  opinionated  parrot 
who  called  raucous  attention  to  “Poor  Poll.” 

To  make  matters  worse,  Elizabeth  ordered  the  Earl  of 
Hertford  abroad,  and  from  her  mandate  there  could  be 
no  appeal.  The  Court  being  at  Greenwich,  husband  and 
wife  contrived  a  stolen  meeting  in  the  orchard,  and  as 
they  paced  the  pleached  alleys  whose  interwoven  stems 
and  foliage  screened  them  from  curious  eyes,  Lady 
Catherine  whispered  a  fear,  not  yet  become  a  certainty, 
that  the  future  might  hold  something  which  would  make 
an  open  avowal  of  their  marriage  imperative. 

The  Earl  comforted  her  as  best  he  could,  promising 
to  return  at  once  if  she  sent  word  that  she  needed  him. 
They  were  both  so  young,  and  but  for  Lady  Catherine’s 
nearness  to  the  throne,  they  might  have  been  so  happy. 
As  it  was  the  world  seemed  hard,  with  Lady  Frances  and 
Lady  Jane  snatched  away  by  death,  and  the  Queen’s 
jealousy  of  Lady  Catherine  daily  increasing,  so  that  there 

24 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  25 

appeared  every  likelihood  of  their  position  becoming 
worse  instead  of  better.  If  only  Elizabeth  would  have 
married  one  of  her  numerous  suitors  all  might  be  well,  but 
she  showed  no  disposition  to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 
Foreign  princes  were  played  off  one  against  the  other 
with  consummate  skill,  and  the  Maids  of  Honour  specu¬ 
lated  freely  among  themselves  as  to  what  might  have 
happened  if  Lord  Robert  Dudley  had  not  possessed  an 
inconvenient  wife1  hidden  away  in  Oxfordshire. 

Kate  Carey  knew  more  of  Elizabeth’s  mind  than  any¬ 
one  except  Mrs.  Ashley,  for  the  cousins  were  close  friends. 
One  bright  summer  day,  when  walking  together  in 
Greenwich  Park,  they  came,  either  by  accident  or 
design,  upon  Lord  Robert  Dudley  and  Lord  Windsor  at 
a  shooting  match.  The  ladies  watched  the  sport  for  some 
time,  but  their  presence  occasioned  more  compliments 
than  shots,  so  that  a  watchful  onlooker,  taking  note  of 
the  Queen’s  open  flirtation  with  Lord  Robert,  wrote 
significantly  to  Sir  Nicholas  Throckmorton,  the  Queen’s 
Ambassador  to  France,  “it  seemeth  his  favour  began  but 
now.” 

On  June  4th,  1561,  the  spell  of  fine  weather  broke,  for 
soon  after  eleven  o’clock  the  sky  clouded  over,  and  heavy 
drops  of  rain  sent  the  ladies  and  courtiers  who  were  in  the 
park  scurrying  back  to  the  Palace  for  shelter. 

The  rain  proved  the  forerunner  of  a  terrific  storm: 
thunder  vibrated  overhead,  whilst  streaks  of  forked 
lightning  lit  up  the  darkened  hall  where  the  Court  sat  at 

1  Amy  Robsart,  died  at  Cumnor  under  suspicious  circumstances 
in  1566. 


2 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

dinner.  Pale-faced  Maids  of  Honour,  quaking  on  their 
joint-stools,1  made  pretence  of  eating,  and  durst  not  look 
upon  their  steel  knives. 

It  took  more  than  a  thunderstorm  to  frighten  Elizabeth, 
who  after  dinner  called  her  unwilling  ladies  to  come  and 
watch  the  lightning  from  the  gallery  windows.  The 
storm  seemed  to  have  concentrated  over  London,  where 
lowering  clouds  hung  like  an  ink  pall  over  the  city.  Rain 
and  hail  fell  in  torrents  whilst  wickedly  flickering  lightning 
cut  the  heavy  clouds,  followed  by  such  terrific  thunder¬ 
claps  that  the  Maids  of  Honour  expected  every  moment 
to  see  a  fire  ball  come  down  the  chimney. 

Greenwich  Palace  escaped,  but  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral 
was  struck,  and  soon  the  onlookers  saw  a  thin  column  of 
smoke  issue  from  the  tall  steeple.  Courtiers  called  for 
boats  and  were  rowed  in  all  haste  to  London;  sailors 
hastened  up  from  the  ships  lying  in  the  docks;  willing 
citizens  formed  chains  to  pass  buckets  of  water  from  the 
river;  all  worked  with  a  will,  but  before  the  flames  could 
be  subdued  the  spire,  roof  and  bells  had  been  destroyed. 

A  month  after  this  calamity  the  Queen  started  forth 
on  a  progress  through  the  eastern  counties.  Most  of  the 
Maids  of  Honour  looked  forward  to  the  expedition,  but 
Lady  Catherine  went  about  her  preparations  with  heavy 
hearted  foreboding  of  coming  trouble.  At  first  all  went 
well,  the  Queen’s  loyal  county  of  Essex  gave  her  a  warm 
welcome,  whilst  the  Corporation  of  Colchester  feasted 

1  Wooden  stools  used  by  all  classes  at  meals  and  stored  under 
the  long  table  at  other  times.  “Cry  you  mercy,  I  took  you  for  a 
joint-stool,”  King  Lear ,  III,  6. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  27 

the  visitors  on  oysters  to  their  very  great  contentment. 
At  Ipswich,  however,  things  began  to  go  wrong:  the 
clergy  were  the  chief  offenders,  for,  though  fully  desirous 
to  please,  everything  they  did  proved  unsatisfactory. 
Elizabeth  found  fault  with  the  way  they  conducted  the 
services,  scolded  them  for  marrying,  and  even  the  Bishop 
of  Norwich  shared  in  the  general  reprimand  on  the  score 
that  he  “winked  at  schismatics.” 

In  short,  Elizabeth  worked  herself  up  into  a  state  of 
irritability  which  reacted  on  a  highly  nervous  Court, 
engaged  like  Agag  in  walking  delicately,  lest  peradventure 
one  of  its  members  should  enact  the  uncongenial  part  of 
scapegoat. 

At  this  unpropitious  moment  Lady  Catherine  Grey 
revealed  the  story  of  her  secret  marriage.  For  a  con¬ 
fidante  she  chose  an  old  friend  of  her  mother’s — Lady 
Seintlow1,  one  of  the  women  of  the  bedchamber.  Both 
Lady  Catherine  and  Lady  Mary  had  been  bridesmaids 
at  her  first  wedding,  but  Lady  Seintlow  had  no  memory 
of  this  when  the  former  came  into  her  room,  and  with 
tears  confessed  that  she  was  married  to  the  Earl  of 
Hertford,  and  about  to  become  a  mother. 

Lady  Seintlow  railed  and  upbraided  Lady  Catherine 
with  much  bitterness  for  making  her  the  recipient  of  such 
a  highly  dangerous  secret,  till  the  frightened  girl  fled 
back  to  her  own  quarters.  All  night  long  she  lay  sleepless, 
tossing  to  and  fro  on  her  bed,  hearing  the  monotonous 

1  “Bess  of  Hardwick”  m.,  1st,  Sir  Robert  Barlow;  2ndly,  Sir 
William  Cavendish;  3rdly,  Sir  William  Sh  Low,  Captain  of  the 
Guard;  4thly,  George  Talbot,  6th  Earl  of  Shrewsbury;  d.  1608. 


28  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

chant  of  the  night  watchman  as  he  called  his  round, 
coupled  with  the  admonition: 

“Look  to  your  candle,  your  fire  and  your  lock. 

Prevent  what  may  through  ignorance  arise.” 

Next  morning  heavy-eyed  Lady  Catherine  guessed, 
from  the  curious  looks  cast  in  her  direction,  that  Lady 
Seintlow  had  revealed  her  secret  to  the  other  ladies, 
though  neither  she  nor  they  would  risk  repeating  it  to  the 
Queen  in  her  present  mood. 

Yet  told  Elizabeth  must  be,  and  Lady  Catherine 
determined  to  appeal  to  no  less  a  person  than  Lord 
Robert  Dudley,  the  now  all-powerful  favourite.  He  also 
was  an  old  friend  of  the  Grey  family,  for  his  brother 
Guildford  had  married  Catherine’s  elder  sister,  Lady 
Jane. 

Lord  Robert  attended  so  closely  on  the  Queen  that 
Lady  Catherine  could  find  no  opportunity  to  speak  to 
him  during  the  day,  but  at  night  when  all  was  quiet  she 
crept  along  the  darkened  passages  till  she  reached  the 
room  he  occupied  next  door  to  the  Queen. 

The  Master  of  the  Horse  awoke  with  a  start  to  find 
Lady  Catherine  Grey  kneeling  by  his  bed  sobbing  out 
her  confession  and  entreating  his  intercession  with  the 
Queen.  Lord  Robert’s  first  concern  was  for  self-preser¬ 
vation  ;  if  Elizabeth  should  overhear  Lady  Catherine, 
in  very  dire  trouble  would  he  find  himself  next  morning, 
favourite  or  no  favourite.  Earnestly  he  besought  the  girl 
to  return  to  her  room,  being  ready  to  promise  anything 
if  she  would  only  go  and  release  him  from  such  an  embar¬ 
rassing  situation. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  29 

Lord  Robert,  though  misliking  the  task,  told  the 
Queen  next  morning,  when  the  result  fully  justified  Lady 
Seintlow’s  apprehensions.  Coming  on  the  top  of  the 
clerical  offences  and  delinquent  bishop,  Elizabeth’s  anger 
knew  no  bounds,  the  more  so  because  it  was  founded  on 
fear,  for  if  Lady  Catherine  gave  birth  to  a  son  her  claim 
to  the  succession  would  be  materially  strengthened. 

The  whole  Court  fell  under  a  ban  of  suspicion,  Lady 
Seintlow  coming  in  for  special  condemnation  for  not 
having  revealed  the  matter  dire&ly  it  came  to  her  know¬ 
ledge.  To  the  Tower  should  Lady  Catherine  go  that  very 
afternoon,  and  an  express  messenger  went  forward  with  a 
letter  to  a  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  telling  him  of  his 
expe&ed  prisoner,  coupled  with  instructions  for  her 
treatment. 

“From  the  Queene’s  Majestie  to  Mr.  Warner, 
Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  17th  August,  1560. 

“Trusty  and  welbeloved,  we  grete  yow  well.  Our 
pleasure  is,  that  ye  shall,  as  by  our  commandment, 
examyn  the  Lady  Catherine  very  streightly,  how  many 
hath  bene  privyee  to  the  love  betwixt  the  Erie  of 
Hertford  and  hir  from  the  begynning;  and  lett  hir 
certenly  understand  that  she  shall  have  no  manner  of 
Favor,  except  she  will  show  the  truth,  not  only  what 
Ladys  and  Gentillwomen  of  this  court  wer  therto  privee, 
but  also  what  Lords  and  Gentillmen:  For  it  doth  now 
appere  that  sondry  Personages  have  delt  herin;  and 
when  it  shall  appcare  more  manifestly,  it  shall  increase 
our  indignation  agynst  hir,  if  she  will  forebeare  to  utter 
it.  We  ernestly  requyre  yow  to  bestow  your  Diligence 
in  this.  Ye  shall  also  send  to  Alderman  Lodge  secretly  for 
Seintlow,  and  shall  put  hir  in  awe  of  divers  matters 


30  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

confessed  by  the  Lady  Catharyn,  and  also  deale  with  hir, 
that  she  may  confess  to  yow  all  hir  knoledge  in  the  same 
matters.  It  is  certayne  that  there  hath  bene  great  prac¬ 
tises  and  purposes,  and  sence  the  Death  of  the  Lady  Jane, 
she  hath  been  most  privee.  And  as  ye  shall  see  occasion 
so  ye  may  keep  Seintlow  two  or  three  nights  more  or  less, 
and  let  hir  be  restorned  to  Lodges  or  kept  still  with  yow, 
as  ye  shall  think  mete.  We  have  signed  a  Licence  for  your 
absence  but  we  wold  that  ye  shuld  forbeare  for  a  fort¬ 
night  and  not  to  depart  untill  also  our  pleasure  be 
further  signified.”1 

Despite  his  postponed  holiday,  Sir  Edward  Warner 
did  the  best  he  could  in  preparation  for  his  expected 
prisoner.  The  Tower  resources  in  the  way  of  furniture 
were  not  large,  but  he  contrived  to  find  a  few  pieces  of 
tapestry  to  hang  on  the  stone  walls;  a  common  bedstead 
covered  with  a  red  and  gold  quilt;  a  crimson  velvet 
chair,  and  two  green  footstools  which  Henry  VIII  had 
used  as  rests  for  his  gouty  feet. 

Lady  Catherine,  when  she  arrived  travel-stained  and 
weary,  regarded  these  faded  relics  of  past  splendour  with 
lack-lustre  eyes.  In  her  nervous,  highly-strung  condition, 
imprisonment  in  the  grim  fortress  wherein  her  sister 
Lady  Jane  Grey  had  been  beheaded  seemed  the  cul¬ 
minating  point  of  wretchedness. 

The  girl’s  friends,  though  not  daring  to  show  their 
sympathy  openly,  did  not  forget  her,  but  made  interest 
with  Sir  Edward  Warner,  that  his  prisoner  might  have 
the  companionship  of  the  pets  she  loved  so  dearly.  Being 
a  kind-hearted  man  he  readily  agreed,  and  one  day  as 
1  Murdin’s  State  Papers. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  31 

Lady  Catherine  sat  dejectedly  in  her  cell,  the  door  opened 
to  admit  a  number  of  little  dogs  and  monkeys,  who  leapt 
exuberantly  on  their  mistress,  and  in  the  warmth  of  their 
affeCtion  she  felt  less  forlorn. 

The  Earl  of  Hertford  had  received  a  peremptory 
summons  to  return  to  England  at  once,  and  no  sooner  did 
he  set  foot  in  his  native  land  than  he  was  arrested  and 
forthwith  clapped  into  the  Tower. 

Husband  and  wife  met  under  sorrowful  circumstances 
they  were  examined  and  cross-examined,  till  all  the 
details  of  their  courtship  and  marriage  became  public 
property.  In  the  midst  of  the  proceedings  Lady  Catherine 
became  ill,  and  on  September  24th  she  clasped  her  first¬ 
born  son1  in  her  arms. 

The  young  mother  remained  weak  and  languid,  till 
Sir  Edward  Warner,  if  he  did  not  aCtually  sanClion  it, 
certainly  contrived  opportunities  for  the  Earl  of  Hertford 
to  visit  his  wife.  These  meetings  brightened  the  dreary 
anxious  lives  of  the  two  prisoners,  who  played  with  their 
baby  boy  and  made  plans  for  the  future,  if  it  should  ever 
please  the  Queen  to  relent  towards  them. 

Unfortunately,  the  birth  of  a  second  son2  fanned 
Elizabeth’s  wrath.  The  Earl  of  Hertford  appeared  before 
the  Star-chamber,  was  fined  £15,000,  both  his  children 

1  Edward  Seymour,  Lord  Beauchamp,  1561-1612.  In  1595  the 
Earl  of  Hertford  was  again  imprisoned  for  having  taken  steps  to 
establish  the  validity  of  his  marriage  with  Lady  Catherine  Grey 
and  the  consequent  legitimacy  of  his  sons. 

2  Thomas,  born  Feb.,  1562-3,  when  two  of  the  Tower  warders 
stood  godfathers,  died  8  Aug.,  1600. 


32  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

declared  illegitimate,  and  all  further  meetings  between 
husband  and  wife  sternly  prohibited. 

During  an  outbreak  of  the  plague,  urgent  repre¬ 
sentations  were  made  for  the  removal  of  the  two  prisoners 
from  the  insalubrious  neighbourhood  of  the  Tower. 
Elizabeth  would  not  have  been  inconsolable  if  the  plague 
had  claimed  the  whole  family,  though  she  grudgingly 
gave  orders  for  their  removal:  the  Earl  of  Hertford  to  the 
charge  of  his  mother  at  Hanworth,  and  Lady  Catherine 
of  her  uncle,  Lord  John  Grey. 

Imprisonment  had  told  sorely  on  the  young  mother, 
and  when  she  arrived  at  Pyrgo  with  her  baby  and  pets 
Lord  John  was  shocked  to  see  how  ill  she  looked. 

“Good  Madam,  eat  somewhat  to  comfort  yourself,” 
he  entreated,  but  Lady  Catherine’s  eyes  filled  with  tears 
as  she  shook  her  head,  saying,  “Alas,  Uncle,  what  a  life 
is  this  to  me,  thus  to  live  in  the  Queen’s  displeasure.  But 
for  my  Lord  and  my  children  I  would  I  were  buried.”1 

Urged  by  her  uncle,  Lady  Catherine  made  an  effort 
to  soften  the  Queen  in  a  letter  beseeching  forgiveness, 
“for  my  disobedience  and  rash  mating  of  myself  without 
your  highness’  consent.”  Unfortunately  at  this  juncture 
a  pamphlet  appeared  setting  forth  the  legality  of  Lady 
Catherine’s  marriage,  and  her  right  to  the  throne  after 
Elizabeth’s  death.  Into  custody  went  Lord  John  Grey; 
back  to  prison  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  and  Lady  Catherine 
to  the  charge  of  Sir  William  Petre  at  Ingatestone. 

1  Ellis’s  Original  Letters ,  2nd  series,  Vol.  II. 


CHAPTER  IV 


A  FTER  sending  Lady  Catherine  to  the  Tower, 

/  %  Elizabeth  continued  her  progress,  returning  to 
JL  JLLondon  on  the  22nd  of  September.  The  citizens, 
for  joy  at  their  young  Queen’s  return,  rang  the  church 
bells,  and  went  out  to  Islington  to  meet  her  in  such  vast 
numbers  that  the  road  became  blocked,  and  “the  hedges 
and  ditches  were  cut  down  to  make  the  next  way  for  her.” 

The  Court  had  scarcely  time  to  settle  at  St.  James’s 
Palace  and  get  unpacked  before  there  came  a  report  that 
the  King  of  Sweden1,  reputed  the  handsomest  man  in 
Europe,  intended  to  come  in  person  to  woo  the  Queen. 
As  earnest  of  his  intention,  he  sent  on  ahead  “eighteen 
great  horses,  all  of  them  pyed-coloured,”  and  two  ship¬ 
loads  of  treasure.  Elizabeth  though  pleased  with  the 
piebald  horses,  and  by  no  means  averse  to  treasure,  did 
not  at  all  wish  to  have  the  King  of  Sweden  for  a  husband. 

The  populace,  however,  decided  that  these  prelim¬ 
inaries  foreboded  matrimony,  one  enterprising  soul  even 
going  so  far  as  to  issue  a  picture  wherein  England’s  Virgin 
Queen  and  the  King  of  Sweden  were  represented  cheek 
by  jowl  after  the  approved  manner  of  betrothed  couples. 
Elizabeth  promptly  suppressed  this  artistic  effort,  and 
sent  off  in  all  haste  to  dissuade  the  royal  suitor  from  his 
intended  visit. 

The  general  opinion  was  that  nothing  would  stop  him. 

1  Eric,  King  of  Sweden,  1533-77.  He  married  Karin  Mans- 
datter,  d.  of  a  private  soldier.  He  became  insane  and  was  deposed 
by  his  brother  John  and  died  in  prison  24th  Feb.,  1577. 


34  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

He  started  once,  but  was  “blown  homeward”  by  bad 
weather.  “They  say  he  is  so  ernest  that  he  will  come  by 
land,”  wrote  Sir  William  to  the  Earl  of  Sussex,1  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  in  a  letter  to  which,  at  the  Queen’s 
express  command,  he  added  a  personal  request: 

“The  Queene’s  Majesty  willeth  me  to  signify  to  your 
lordship  her  contentation  to  have  my  lady,  your  sister, 
in  her  Court,  as  one  of  her  Maydens  of  honor,  if  your 
Lordship  will  give  order  therein.”2 

Eric,  King  of  Sweden,  in  the  end  came  not,  but  Lady 
Frances  Radcliffe  arrived  in  due  course  to  join  the  other 
ladies  in  the  privy  chamber.  She  was  destined  to  play 
an  important,  though  probably  innocent  part  in  con¬ 
nection  with  Shan  O’Neil,  the  turbulent  Irish  chieftain 
who  caused  her  brother,  the  Earl  of  Sussex,  so  much 
trouble. 

Shan  O’Neil,  2nd  Earl  of  Tyrone,  “had  depoiled  his 
father  of  all  rule,  who  dyed  soon  after  for  griefe,  and  by  a 
barbarous  kind  of  election  throwing  up  his  shoo  over  his 
head,  had  upon  him  the  Title  of  O’Neil.”3 

Not  content  with  supplanting  his  father  and  brother, 
“he  dyd  cruelly,  wylfully  and  trayterously,  murther  his 
brother,  the  Baron  of  Dungannon.”  Also  he  harried  his 
neighbours  when  and  how  he  could,  entirely  defying  the 

1  Thomas,  3rd  Earl  of  Sussex;  m.,  1st,  Lady  Elizabeth  Wrio- 
thesley,  d.  of  Thomas,  Earl  of  Southampton;  2ndly,  Frances, 
d.  of  Sir  William  Sidney,  who  became  the  foundress  of  Sidney- 
Sussex  College,  Cambridge.  Sussex  died  in  1583.  Lady  Frances 
Radcliffe  was  his  half-sister. 

2  Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  Times,  T.  Wright. 

3  Camden’s  Annales. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  35 

authority  of  the  English  Crown.  Elizabeth,  who  had  at 
first  recognized  him  as  Earl  of  Tyrone,  revoked  her  con¬ 
sent  and  ordered  the  Earl  of  Sussex  to  subdue  the  rebel 
chief.  In  such  a  wild  country  this  was  easier  said  than  done, 
but  eventually  through  the  influence  of  the  Earl  of  Kil¬ 
dare1  Shan  agreed  to  go  to  England  to  sue  for  pardon  for 
his  manifold  offences. 

The  appearance  of  the  half  savage  chieftain,  with  his 
guard  of  gallowglasses,  caused  a  sensation  at  Court.  They 
all  carried  sharpened  battle-axes,  were  “bare  headed,  with 
curled  haire  hanging  downe,  yellow  surplices  dyed  with 
saffron,  long  sleeves,  short  coates,  and  hairy  mantles.”2 
O’Neil,  who  could  speak  no  English,  strode  up  the  room 
till  he  reached  the  Queen,  when,  prostrating  himself  be¬ 
fore  her,  he  “confessed  his  crime  and  rebellion  with 
howling.” 

After  this  show  of  submission  Shan  carried  himself 
more  arrogantly  than  ever,  so  that  the  courtiers  called  him 
mockingly,  “O’Neil  the  great  cousin  to  St.  Patrick,  friend 
to  the  Queen  of  England,  enemy  to  all  the  world  besides.” 

The  Maids  of  Honour  fully  endorsed  this  description, 
but  what  amused  them  most  of  all  was  the  fact  that  the 
Irish  chief  had  lost  his  heart  to  one  of  their  number. 
O’Neil  admired  all  the  English  ladies,  but  in  his  eyes  Lady 
Frances  Radcliffe  seemed  by  far  the  loveliest  of  them  all. 
He  therefore  approached  the  Queen  with  a  request  that 
“she  would  give  him  a  gentlewoman  for  a  wife,  such  as 
he  and  she  might  agree  upon.”3 

1  Gerald  Fitzgerald,  nth  Earl  of  Kildare. 

2  Camden.  3  Irish  MSS. 


3 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

As  O’Neil’s  matrimonial  relations  in  Ireland  were  more 
complex  than  orthodox,  Elizabeth  put  the  matter  aside,  as 
she  likewise  did  his  requests  for  permission  to  return  home. 
She  had  given  him  a  safe  conduit,  it  is  true,  but,  once 
having  secured  him,  she  was  very  loath  to  let  such  a  dis¬ 
turbing  element  return  to  Ireland.  Shan,  however,  began 
to  get  into  mischief — that  is,  he  took  to  visiting  the 
Spanish  embassy,  and  Elizabeth  in  fright  sent  him  back  to 
Ireland. 

Once  among  his  own  people,  O’Neil  stirred  up  trouble 
as  fast  as  he  could,  to  the  very  great  annoyance  of  the  Earl 
of  Sussex,  who  was  expeiling  his  sister  on  a  visit.  When 
Shan  O’Neil  heard  that  Lady  Frances  had  actually  arrived 
in  Dublin,  he  sent  a  deputation  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant, 
suggesting  that  as  a  brother-in-law  he  would  prove  less 
trouble  to  his  lordship  than  as  an  openly  professed  enemy. 

The  Earl  of  Sussex  never  for  a  moment  contemplated 
sacrificing  Lady  Frances,  but  he  did  most  earnestly  desire 
to  get  hold  of  Shan  O’Neil.  Therefore  he  sent  back  a  reply 
that  he  “could  not  promise  to  give  her  against  her  will,” 
but  if  Shan  would  visit  him  at  Dublin,  they  should  speak 
together  and  “if  he  liked  her  and  she  him  they  should 
both  have  his  good  will.”1 

Shan  O’Neil  seriously  thought  of  accepting  the  invita¬ 
tion  till  he  received  a  warning  that  the  lady  was  brought 
over  on  purpose  to  entrap  him,  and  if  he  went  to  Dublin 
he  would  never  return. 

On  the  strength  of  this  communication  Shan  remained 
at  home,  but  he  could  not  put  Lady  Frances  out  of  his 

1  Irish  MSS. 


37 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

mind,  and  wrote  to  ask  Sir  William  Cecil  to  use  his  in¬ 
fluence  in  the  matter.  Cecil  read  the  letter,  but  “did  not 
venture  to  move  the  matter  to  the  Queen  fearing  how  she 
might  take  it.” 

The  Radcliffe  fa6Hon  at  Court  were  in  constant  fri&ion 
with  that  of  Lord  Robert  Dudley,  so  that  when  the  Earl 
of  Sussex  returned  from  Ireland,  “being  together  at 
Court,  and  both  in  high  employments,  they  grew  to  direct 
forwardness,  and  were  in  continual  opposition;  the  one 
setting  the  watch  and  the  other  the  sentinel,  each  on  the 
other’s  adfions  and  motions.”1 

The  Earl  of  Sussex  had  his  cause  backed  by  two  rela¬ 
tions  in  the  privy  chamber:  his  sister  Lady  Frances,  and 
a  young  cousin,  Mary  Radcliffe. 

Mary,  who  came  to  Court  in  rather  an  unusual  manner, 
was  the  daughter  of  a  romantic  marriage,  her  father  being 
a  younger  son  of  the  ist  Earl  of  Sussex,2  and  her  mother 
the  daughter  of  a  London  merchant. 

One  day,  during  the  reign  of  King  Henry  VIII,  the 
Earl  of  Sussex  with  his  son  Humphrey  and  a  party  of 
friends  rode  out  of  London  to  take  part  in  a  tournament. 
As  the  gay  cavalcade  passed  through  the  little  village  of 
Kensington,  people  hurried  to  the  windows  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  gorgeously  caparisoned  riders  and  horses. 
One  girl,  Isabella  Harvey,  who  with  her  father  happened 
to  be  visiting  some  friends,  leaned  out  so  far  in  her  eager¬ 
ness  to  see  all  there  was  to  see  that  she  dropped  her  glove 

1  Fragmenta  Regalia ,  Sir  Robert  Naunton. 

2  Robert  Radcliffe,  1st  Earl  of  Sussex.  Lord  High  Chamberlain 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII. 


38  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

just  as  Sir  Humphrey  Radcliffe  rode  by.  Gloves  being 
costly  luxuries,  and  chivalry  the  pursuit  of  every  true 
knight,  Sir  Humphrey  dipped  his  lance,  impaled  the  glove, 
and  returned  it  to  its  owner,  who  blushed  as  she  thanked 
him  for  his  courtesy. 

The  Earl  and  his  companions  rode  on,  but  Isabella’s 
beauty  had  cast  such  a  spell  upon  Sir  Humphrey  that  he 
contrived  to  leave  his  companions  and  returned  in  all 
haste  to  Kensington. 

Edmund  Harvey  and  his  daughter  were  about  to  set  off 
for  London,  and  as  the  road  thence  bore  an  evil  reputation 
for  robbery,  generally  accompanied  with  violence,  the 
merchant  readily  acquiesced  in  the  knight’s  suggestion 
that  he  should  bear  them  company. 

Sir  Humphrey  represented  himself  as  a  squire  in  service 
with  the  Earl  of  Sussex,  and  so  agreeable  did  he  make  him¬ 
self  that  when  they  reached  Edmund  Harvey’s  house  in 
Cheapside  he  received  an  invitation  to  come  in  to  supper. 

The  friendship  between  Isabella  and  Sir  Humphrey 
soon  ripened  into  love,  nor  did  her  father  raise  any  objec¬ 
tion  when  asked  to  give  his  consent  to  their  marriage. 
Isabella  Harvey  came  to  her  husband  a  richly  dowered 
bride,  but  they  had  been  married  some  time  before  she 
learned  the  fadl  that  her  husband  was  the  son,  not  the 
servant,  of  Robert,  Earl  of  Sussex,  Lord  High  Chamber- 
lain  of  England. 

They  settled  at  Elstow  in  Bedfordshire,  where  Mary, 
their  first  child,  was  born.  She  grew  up  to  be  a  beautiful 
accomplished  girl,  and  on  New  Year’s  Day,  1561,  Sir 
Humphrey  brought  her  to  be  presented  to  the  Queen. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  39 

New  Year’s  Day  was  the  most  important  day  of  the  year 
at  Court,  for  on  it,  according  to  established  custom,  the 
sovereign  received  gifts  from  the  chief  subjects  of  her 
realm.  The  presentations  took  place  in  the  presence- 
chamber,  where  Elizabeth  in  regal  finery  took  her  seat  on 
a  velvet  canopied,  jewel-encrusted  throne,  whilst  white- 
clad  Maids  of  Honour  grouped  themselves  to  form  an 
effective  background. 

Forward  came  the  donors,  gifts  in  hand:  lords  spiritual 
and  temporal,  ministers  of  state,  ambassadors,  courtiers, 
officers  of  the  household,  ladies  of  all  ranks.  Down  on 
their  knees  before  the  Queen  went  they  one  by  one; 
humbly  they  begged  her  acceptance  of  their  gift:  silken 
purses  full  of  good  red  angels,  magnificent  carcanets  of 
gold  inset  with  precious  stones,  jewelled  pendants,  spark¬ 
ling  rings,  chased  bodkins  for  the  hair,  trinkets  of  all  kinds 
to  be  given  into  the  charge  of  Mrs.  Blanche  Parry. 

Sir  William  Cecil  presented: 

“a  standishe  garnished  with  silver  gilt  and  mother  of 
pearle,  with  an  inke-pott  of  like  silver  gilt,  and  a  glass  of 
chrystall  in  the  cover,  the  base  plated  with  like  silver  gilt; 
a  pen-knife,  thafte  of  silver  gilt,  and  a  seal  of  bone  typped 
with  silver  guilt.” 

The  Earl  of  Warwick1  offered: 

“a  smocke  wrought  with  black  silk,  a  peire  of  sleeves  and 
a  partlett  wrought  with  gold,  silver,  and  black  silk.” 

Sir  Francis  Knollys  gave  .£10  in  money,  and  his  wife, 

1  Ambrose  Dudley,  Earl  of  Warwick,  elder  brother  of  Lord 
Robert  Dudley. 


40  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

one  of  the  Queen’s  ladies,  “a  faire  carpet1  of  needle¬ 
work,”  the  ends  fringed  with  gold  and  silver. 

The  Maids  of  Honour  curtsied  low  as  they  in  turn  pre¬ 
sented  their  mistress  with  gifts  which  their  own  skilful 
fingers  had  fashioned,  Kate  Carey  receiving  special  com¬ 
mendation  for  a  set  of  “six  handkerchiefs  edged  with 
gold,  silver,  and  silk.” 

Anon  came  the  Court  physicians  with  pots  of  preserved 
ginger  and  orange  flowers.  Then  up  stepped  the  master 
cook  filled  with  conscious  pride  of  his  masterpiece,  a 
triumph  of  sugary  confectionery  in  the  shape  of  a  chess 
board  with  chessmen  of  dele&able  sweetmeats.  The 
yeoman  of  the  guard  ran  him  close  with  “a  very  faire 
marchpane  made  like  a  tower,  with  men  and  sundry 
artillery  in  it.”2  Following  close  on  his  heels  came  a 
servant  of  the  pastry  with  a  lordly  quince  pie. 

Mrs.  Montagu,  the  Queen’s  silk-woman,  occasioned 
prodigious  excitement  among  the  Maids  of  Honour,  for 
the  present  she  proffered  the  Queen  took  the  novel  form 
of  a  pair  of  silk  stockings.  Such  luxuries  had  never  been 
seen  in  the  privy  chamber  before,  and  the  ladies  listened 
eagerly  when  the  Queen  questioned  Mrs.  Montagu  re¬ 
specting  them.  Mrs.  Montagu  replied  that  she  had  had 
them  made  on  purpose  for  Her  Majesty  and  would  at  once 
6et  some  more  in  hand. 

“Do  so,”  quoth  the  Queen,  “for  indeed  I  like  silk  stock¬ 
ings  so  well,  because  they  are  pleasant,  fine,  and  delicate, 
that  henceforth  I  will  weare  no  more  cloth  stockings.”3 

1  Carpets  were  used  to  cover  tables  and  chairs,  the  floors  being 
strewn  with  rushes. 

2  Lists  in  Nichols’  Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

3  Stowe’s  Chronicle. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  41 

When  the  excitement  over  the  silk  stockings  had  sub¬ 
sided,  Sir  Humphrey  Radcliffe  brought  forward  his 
daughter  Mary  and  laughingly  presented  her  as  a  New 
Year’s  gift. 

Elizabeth,  being  in  high  good  humour,  replied  gra¬ 
ciously  that  she  would  take  Mary  to  be  one  of  her  Maids 
of  Honour,  for  by  the  death  of  Lady  Jane  Seymour,  the 
imprisonment  of  Lady  Catherine  Grey  and  the  marriage 
of  Lettice  Knollys,1  there  were  several  vacancies  in  the 
privy  chamber. 

Mary  soon  became  a  great  favourite  with  her  royal 
mistress,  the  more  so  because  it  really  seemed  as  if  at  last 
she  had  found  a  Maid  of  Honour  of  like  thinking  with 
herself  on  the  subjedf  of  matrimony.  From  the  first  Mary 
refused  to  take  the  courtiers  at  their  own  valuation, 
making  shrewd  estimation  of  the  facile  flatterers,  who  in 
the  Queen’s  presence  professed  to  be  dazzled  by  her 
beauty,  but  diredfly  her  back  was  turned  made  ardent 
protestations  of  love  to  the  Maids  of  Honour. 

“With  ‘lovely  lady,’  ‘mistress  of  my  heart,’ 

‘Pardon  your  servant,’  and  the  rhymer  play, 

Railing  on  Cupid  and  his  tyrant’s  dart.”2 

Mary  laughed  at  their  flowery  phrases,  saying  straightly 
to  one  whose  attentions  wearied  her,  “that  his  wit  was 
like  custard,  nothing  good  in  it  but  the  sop,  and  when  that 
was  eaten  you  might  throw  away  the  rest.”3 

Many  men  wooed  Mary  Radcliffe,  but  after  a  tepid  love 

1  Lettice  Knollys  m.  Walter  Devereux,  1st  Earl  of  Essex. 

2  The  Shoemaker's  Holiday ,  by  Thomas  Dekker. 

3Thoms’s  Anecdotes  and  Traditions. 


42  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

affair  with  a  gentleman  of  the  Temple  she  settled  down  to 
obdurate  virginity,  serving  the  Queen,  “honourably,  vir¬ 
tuously,  and  faithfully  for  forty  years.” 

Mistress  and  maid  alike  took  the  cult  of  Cynthia  seri¬ 
ously,  undeterred  by  the  bleak  prospedf  supposedly 
allotted  to  old  maids  in  a  future  life,  where  they  per¬ 
formed  the  unattradlive  duty  of  leading  apes  through  the 
fires  of  hell.1 

Little  Mistress  Arundell,  another  new-comer  to  Court, 
held  very  different  views  from  Mary  Radcliffe.  Being  un¬ 
used  to  the  art  of  dissimulation,  she  confessed  candidly, 
when  questioned  by  the  Queen,  “that  she  had  thought 
much  about  marriage,  if  her  father  would  give  his  consent 
to  the  man  she  loved.” 

“You  seem  honeste,  i’  faith,”  said  Elizabeth.  “I  will 
sue  for  you  to  your  father.” 

Mistress  Arundell  expressed  gratitude,  whilst  the  other 
girls  exchanged  glances  of  surprise,  not  unmixed  with 
apprehension,  for  they  knew  the  Queen  too  well  to  be 
misled  by  her  seeming  compliance. 

Shortly  after  Sir  Robert  Arundell  came  to  Court,  when 
the  Queen  taxed  him  with  his  young  daughter’s  love 
affair.  This  being  the  first  he  had  heard  of  it,  he  expressed 
considerable  annoyance,  and  very  reludlantly  gave  his  con¬ 
sent  when  pressed  to  do  by  the  Queen. 

“Then  I  will  do  the  rest,”  quoth  she  and  sent  a  mes¬ 
senger  for  Mistress  Arundell. 

1  “  I  must  dance  barefoot  on  her  wedding-day, 

And,  for  your  love  to  her,  lead  apes  in  hell.” 

Taming  of  the  Shrew ,  II,  I. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  43 

The  girl  came  in  shyly,  fearing  her  father’s  displeasure, 
but  her  face  brightened  when  Elizabeth  announced  that 
she  had  persuaded  Sir  Robert  to  leave  the  matter  wholly 
in  her  hands. 

“Then  I  shall  be  happy,  an’  please  your  Grace,”  said 
she,  with  shining  eyes. 

“So  thou  shalt,  but  not  to  be  a  fool  and  marry,”  quoth 
Elizabeth.  “I  have  his  consent  given  to  me,  and  I  vow 
thou  shalt  never  get  it  into  thy  possession.  I  see  thou  art 
a  bold  one  to  own  thy  foolishness  so  readily.”1 

1  Sir  J.  Harrington’s  Nugce  Antique?. 


CHAPTER  V 


IN  1563  a  serious  outbreak  of  the  plague  alarmed  the 
Queen,  so  that  she  left  London  in  a  hurry  and  took 
the  Court  down  to  Windsor.  Stringent  precautions 
were  taken  to  prevent  the  infeftion  spreading,  all  inter¬ 
course  with  the  capital  being  expressly  prohibited,  “upon 
payne  of  hangynge  withowt  any  judgement.”  To  demon¬ 
strate  that  this  was  no  idle  threat,  the  authorities  eredled 
a  new  pair  of  gallows  in  Windsor  market-place,  “to  hange 
up  all  suche  as  shuld  come  ther  from  London.” 

The  old  castle  was  cold  and  draughty,  and  by  no  means 
in  good  repair.  Maids  of  Honour  made  plaint  “to  have 
their  chamber  ceiled,  and  the  partition  that  is  of  boards 
there  to  be  made  higher,  for  that  the  servants  look  over”; 
whilst  the  squires  of  the  body  complained  bitterly  that 
their  chamber  required  “  to  be  ceiled  overhead,  and 
boarded  under  foot,  for  that  it  is  so  ruinous  and  cold.” 

Elizabeth,  with  customary  energy,  set  to  work  to  make 
the  castle  habitable,  and  when  cart-loads  of  furniture 
arrived  from  the  other  palaces  things  began  to  look  more 
home- like.  Tapestry  gave  warmth  to  the  large  rooms, 
painted  cloths  took  the  chill  from  unused  bed-chambers, 
silk  hangings,  together  with  fur-lined  quilts  of  gold  and 
silver,  gave  comfort  to  four-post  bedsteads. 

Out  of  doors  Elizabeth  planned  the  pleasant  terrace, 
where  she  and  her  ladies  could  pace  up  and  down  for 
exercise,  if  disinclined  for  rougher  walking  in  the  park. 
Here  on  sultry  summer  days  when  the  heat  haze  danced 
over  the  valley,  Maids  of  Honour  brought  their  cushions 

44 


Coll,  of  Lord  Dillon 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH 
The  Ditchley  Portrait 


Photo  Clarendon  Press 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  45 

and  spent  idly  happy  hours  watching  the  younger 
courtiers  practising  at  the  Quintain  in  the  fields  below. 
They  were  proficient  horsemen  most  of  them,  for  “to 
ride  cumlie,  to  run  faire  at  a  ring  ”  were  considered 
essential  for  every  gentleman.  The  quintain  required  an 
accurate  eye  and  steady  hand,  for,  unless  the  competitor 
hit  the  mark  accurately,  the  pivot  swung  round  so  that  he 
had  much  ado  to  escape  the  bag  of  sand  which  hung  on 
the  other  end. 

At  Windsor,  with  fewer  diversions  than  at  the  palaces 
nearer  London,  Elizabeth  and  her  ladies  spent  a  good  deal 
of  time  hunting  and  hawking  in  Windsor  forest.  Some¬ 
times  they  hunted  the  hart  at  force,  riding  both  hard  and 
far;  at  others  they  stood  in  stands  with  their  cross-bows 
to  shoot  at  driven  deer. 

Falconry  they  all  loved,  and  each  girl  had  her  own  bird, 
which  she  carried  hooded  on  her  wrist,  when  the  royal 
party  rode  forth  to  fly  to  wild-duck  by  the  river,1  or  in 
pursuit  of  high  mounting  game.  Ann  Russell,  keenest  of 
falconers,  shaded  her  eye  as  she  watched  her  hawk 
pursue  its  quarry  high  up  into  the  azure  sky,  till  only  a 
tiny  dot  betokened 

“A  falcon,  towering  in  her  pride  of  place.”2 

The  Queen  whilst  at  Windsor  took  the  opportunity  to 
rub  up  her  Latin  and  Greek;  also  she  started  a  course  of 
theological  reading  in  anticipation  of  a  visit  to  the 
universities.  News  of  this  intended  tour  threw  Cambridge 
into  extreme  disquiet.  Not  being  used  to  entertaining 

1  For  a  description  of  “A  Flight  at  Brook”  see  Michael  Drayton’s 
Polyolbion,  Sonnet  XX.  2  Macbeth ,  II,  4. 


4 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

ladies  it  feared  the  worst,  in  no  wise  reassured  by  Sir 
William  Cecil’s  express  desire  “that  two  things  may 
especially  appeare  in  the  University:  order  and  learning.” 

Reverend  doCtors  straightway  set  to  work  on  learned 
perorations;  poets  with  rumpled  hair  composed  com¬ 
plimentary  odes;  college  cooks  created  epics  in  sugary 
confectionery ;  erudite  professors  sought  humbly  for 
instruction  in  Court  etiquette;  the  public  orator  wished 
his  mother  had  not  borne  him. 

King’s  College  being  appointed  for  the  Queen’s 
residence,  the  fellows  thereof  were  bundled  out,  to 
mingle  lamentations  with  their  brethren  of  Caius, 
ejeCted  to  make  room  for  the  Maids  of  Honour. 

Sir  William  Cecil,  Chancellor  of  the  University,  though 
suffering  from  a  bad  attack  of  gout,  politely  referred  to 
as  an  “unhappy  grief”  in  his  foot,  managed  to  get  down 
to  Cambridge  to  see  that  all  was  in  readiness  for  the 
Queen’s  reception. 

The  vice-Chancellor,  supported  by  the  proctors  and 
heads  of  Colleges,  waited  on  him  with  propitiating 
offerings  in  the  shape  of  two  pairs  of  gloves,  a  highly 
ornate  marchpane  and  two  sugar  loaves.  These  accepted, 
the  anxious  deputation,  still  feeling  urgently  in  need  of 
friends,  hurried  round  to  all  the  powerful  nobles  who  had 
arrived  in  advance,  to  beg  their  acceptance  of  gloves  and 
sugar  loaves. 

August  5  th  found  Cambridge  bedecked  and  garnished; 
streets  strewn  with  fresh  rushes,  and  laudatory  verses 
fixed  in  conspicuous  places,  so  that,  should  the  tongue  of 
the  public  orator  fail  him,  the  Queen  might  at  least  read 
of  the  University’s  earnest  desire  to  do  her  honour. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  47 

Scholars  in  caps  and  gowns  lined  the  way,  having 
received  careful  instruction  to  fall  down  on  their  knees 
at  the  Queen’s  approach  and  cry  “Vivat  Regina”  with 
one  voice.  This  done  to  the  full  capacity  of  their  youthful 
lungs,  they  were  to  return  to  their  rooms,  “and  in  no 
wise  to  come  to  Court,  to  the  Disputations,  or  to  the 
plays.”  If  upon  some  urgent  occasion  they  entered  the 
town,  “they  were  to  go  two  and  two;  upon  a  great  pain.”1 

Elizabeth,  wearing  a  slashed  black  velvet  dress,  and  a 
gold  spangled  hat  with  “  a  bush  of  feathers,”  entered  the 
city  on  horseback,  followed  by  the  ladies  of  the  privy 
chamber  in  black  velvet  riding  clothes. 

Forward  stepped  the  Public  Orator;  prefaced  three 
deep  curtsies,  then  down  on  his  knees  went  he  with  a 
prayer  in  his  soul  and  the  words  of  a  Latin  oration  on  his 
lips.  It  proved  an  even  more  trying  ordeal  than  he  had 
anticipated,  for  in  order  to  show  her  complete  compre¬ 
hension  of  Latin,  Elizabeth  constantly  made  interpolations 
in  that  tongue.  Only  when  the  orator  made  a  happy  shot 
by  praising  the  merits  of  Virginity  the  Queen  heartened 
him  by  exclaiming  in  English,  “God’s  blessing  on  thine 
heart!  There  continue!” 

Crowded  days  followed,  thoroughly  enjoyable  to 
Elizabeth,  who  delighted  to  show  off  her  learning,  “and 
talked  very  much  with  divers  scholars  in  Latin,”  but 
exceeding  wearisome  for  the  background  of  Maids  of 
Honour. 

Sightseeing  began  at  six  in  the  morning  when  the 

1  Contemporary  account  printed  in  Nichols’  Progresses  0/  Queen 
Elizabeth. 


48  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Queen  rode  the  various  Colleges,  getting  back  so  late  that 
the  ladies  had  hardly  time  to  finish  their  dinner  before  it 
was  time  to  go  and  to  listen  to  the  speeches  in  St.  Mary’s 
church.  There  they  remained  from  three  to  seven,  and 
might  have  been  much  longer  had  not  “the  night  coming 
on  clean  took  away  the  disputations  of  the  lawyers.” 
Even  then  the  tired  ladies  did  not  get  release,  for  Lord 
Robert  Dudley,  “humbly  desired  Her  Majesty  to  speak 
something  to  the  University  in  Latin.” 

Elizabeth,  with  a  carefully  prepared  speech  in  readiness, 
feigned  reluctance,  declaring  “that  if  she  might  speak 
her  mind  in  English  she  would  not  stick  at  the  matter.” 
This,  however,  could  not  be,  for  “nothing  might  be 
said  openly  to  the  University  in  English.” 

Courtiers  entreated;  dons  pleaded;  Maids  of  Honour 
exchanged  glances,  till  at  length  the  Queen  rose  and  made 
a  speech  in  Latin  so  that  her  listeners  “were  marvelously 
astonied.” 

So  pleased  was  Elizabeth  at  her  reception  that  she  said 
plainly  that  “if  provision  of  beer  and  ale  could  have  been 
made  her  Grace  would  have  remained  till  Friday.” 

Soon  after  her  return  to  Whitehall,  Elizabeth  made 
display  of  her  less  erudite  talents  for  the  benefit  of  Sir 
James  Melville,  who  came  to  Court  as  envoy  from  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots.  Elizabeth  firmly  determined  that  he 
should  not  go  back  in  ignorance  of  her  beauty  and  talents, 
being  not  a  little  jealous  of  the  flattering  reports  current 
concerning  the  Scotch  Queen. 

Day  after  day  did  Elizabeth,  duly  set  off  by  a  demure 
background  of  Maids  of  Honour,  appear  in  the  national 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  49 

garb  of  one  foreign  country  after  another.  Dressed  as  an 
Italian  lady,  with  her  red-gold  locks  hanging  loose,  she 
preened  before  Sir  James,  desiring  to  know  “whether 
my  Queen’s  hair  or  hers  was  best,  and  which  of  them  two 
was  fairest?”1 

Sir  James  replied  cautiously,  “the  fairness  of  them 
both  was  not  their  worst  faults.”  Commanded  to  be  more 
specific  he  gave  opinion  that  Elizabeth  was  the  fairest 
Queen  in  England,  and  Mary  in  Scotland.  No  amount  of 
evasion  could  save  him  from  definite  comparison,  and 
eventually  he  reluCtantly  admitted  that  possibly  Elizabeth 
might  be  a  shade  the  whiter  of  the  two,  but  his  Queen  was 
very  lovely. 

Elizabeth  next  inquired  as  to  their  relative  heights, 
when  Sir  James  unhesitatingly  gave  the  palm  to  Mary. 

“Then  she  is  too  tall  for  a  woman,”  quoth  Elizabeth, 
displeased,  “for  I  myself  am  neither  too  high  nor  too  low.” 

Next  day  the  envoy  had  opportunity  to  judge  of  his 
hostess’s  skill  in  music,  Lord  Hunsdon  conducting  him 
to  a  gallery,  “where  though  he  durst  not  avow  it,  I  might 
hear  the  Queen  play  upon  the  virginals.” 

Sir  James,  perfectly  aware  that  the  performance  had 
been  arranged  expressly  for  his  benefit,  entered  the  room 
from  whence  came  sounds  of  music.  Elizabeth,  seated 
before  an  instrument  of  cedar  wood  ornamented  with 
red,  blue  and  gold,  feigned  ignorance  of  the  intruder,  as 
the  silver  and  ivory  keys  jumped  up  and  down  beneath 
her  nimble  fingers.  Presently  with  a  start  she  turned 
towards  Sir  James,  crying  out  on  him  for  an  eavesdropper, 

1  Sir  James  Melville’s  Memoirs. 


50  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

declaring  that  she  never  played  before  men  but  only  for 
her  own  pleasure. 

Sir  James  made  his  peace  by  admitting  that  Elizabeth’s 
musical  ability  somewhat  exceeded  Mary’s,  who,  however, 
he  claimed  played  reasonably  well  for  a  Queen.  Two  days 
later  Elizabeth  arranged  a  ball  that  he  might  see  her  dance 
and  give  his  opinion,  “whether  she  or  my  Queen  danced 
best.”  To  which  Sir  James  replied  with  crafty  ambiguity 
that  Mary  “danced  not  so  high  or  disposedly  as  she  did.” 

Vanity,  always  one  of  Elizabeth’s  foibles,  gained 
increase  from  the  excessive  laudation  amidst  which  she 
lived.  Naturally  given  to  introspection,  intensely  conscious 
of  her  beauty  and  cleverness,  she  saw  herself  the  “miracle 
of  the  age,”  a  savante,  a  wit;  in  all  transcendent. 

None  contradifted  this  illusion  save  one  brave  prelate, 
who  said  boldly  in  the  pulpit  “that  she  who  had  been 
meek  as  a  lamb,  was  become  an  untameable  heifer.”  The 
immediate  result  of  this  outspoken  criticism  reacted  on 
the  preacher,  he  being  arrested  coming  down  from  the 
pulpit,  “as  an  over  confident  man  that  dishonoured  his 
sovereign.” 

A  rival  Elizabeth  would  not  brook;  the  mention  of  a 
successor  caused  her  to  say  angrily  that  she  could  not 
endure  to  have  her  winding-sheet  ever  before  her  eyes,  and 
that  the  English  ran  after  the  heir  to  the  throne  more  than 
the  reigning  sovereign. 

The  Commons,  however,  brought  up  the  subjedl  with 
maddening  pertinacity:  an  heir  or  a  husband,  that  much 
they  humbly  asked  of  Her  Majesty,  and  were  soundly 
rated  for  their  pains. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  51 

Elizabeth  told  them  she  was  wedded  to  her  country  and 
people,  whilst,  for  a  memorial  after  death,  she  desired 
it  should  be  engraved  on  her  tombstone,  “Here  lieth 
Elizabeth,  which  reigned  a  Virgin,  and  died  a  Virgin.”1 

Apart  from  personal  considerations,  Elizabeth  with 
clear  foresight  saw  that  to  name  as  successor  either  Lady 
Catherine  Grey,  the  hope  of  the  Protestants,  or  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots,  the  Catholic  candidate,  would  be  to 
divide  the  kingdom  into  two  factions  and  provide  a  head 
for  malcontents. 

Matrimony,  with  consequent  diminution  of  her  power, 
she  frankly  disliked,  apart  from  the  dangers  which  must 
inevitably  ensue  from  a  foreign  alliance.  To  wed  a 
Spaniard  would  incur  the  enmity  of  France;  to  espouse 
a  Frenchman  invite  the  hostility  of  Spain;  whilst  a 
marriage  with  anyone  else  would  give  France  and  Spain 
common  cause  to  unite  together  for  the  destruction  of 
England. 

Lord  Robert  Dudley  hoped  that  after  the  death  of 
his  wife  he  would  be  raised  to  the  proud  position  of 
Queen’s  consort,  but  time  passed,  tongues  wagged, 
scandal  accumulated,  yet  still  he  remained  the  Queen’s 
favourite;  just  that,  but  nothing  more. 

One  moment  Elizabeth  showed  him  exaggerated 
affection;  the  next  trounced  him  soundly  for  presumption, 
exclaiming  angrily,  “s’death  my  Lord,  I  have  wished 
you  well;  but  my  favour  is  not  so  locked  up  for  you,  that 
others  shall  not  participate  thereof,  for  I  have  many 
servants  unto  whom  I  have,  and  will,  bequeath  my 

1  Camden. 


52  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

favour,  and  likewise  resume  the  same;  and  if  you  think 
to  rule  here  I  will  take  a  course  to  see  you  forth  coming.”1 

Words  of  such  import  were  sweet  as  music  to  the  ears 
of  the  Earl  of  Sussex  and  other  great  lords  who  hated  the 
favourite,  so  that  they  took  heart  of  grace  and  sternly 
remonstrated  with  Lord  Robert  on  his  general  condudt, 
especially  for  “kissing  Her  Majesty  when  he  was  not 
invited  thereto.” 

Ladies  of  the  privy  chamber  knew  not  what  to  think, 
and  as  usual  in  all  Court  quarrels  took  sides.  Mary  and 
Frances  Radcliffe,  belonging  to  the  Sussex  party,  saw  no 
good  in  Lord  Robert;  Blanche  Parry  and  Mrs.  Ashley 
openly  championed  him. 

Mrs.  Ashley,  always  privileged,  asked  her  old  pupil 
outright  if  she  meant  to  marry  Lord  Robert. 

“What!”  cried  Elizabeth  scornfully.  “Dost  thou  think 
me  so  unlike  myself;  and  so  forgetful  of  majesty,  as  to 
prefer  my  servant,  whom  I  myself  have  advanced,  before 
the  greatest  Princes  of  the  Christian  world.”2 

At  this  crisis  Elizabeth  threw  both  parties  into  equal 
perplexity  by  creating  Lord  Robert,  Earl  of  Leicester 
(accompanying  the  honour  with  the  gift  of  Kenilworth 
Castle),  at  the  same  time  saying  that  as  she  esteemed 
him  “as  her  brother  and  best  friend”  he  would  make  a 
suitable  husband  for  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots. 

No  one  knew  what  to  think,  least  of  all  Leicester,  who 
regarded  the  suggestion  as  the  work  of  Sir  William  Cecil, 
and  expressly  designed  for  his  undoing.  In  perplexity  he 
consulted  Sir  Nicholas  Throckmorton,  who  suggested  that 
1  Sir  R.  Naunton’s  Fragmenta  Regalia.  2  Camden. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  53 

he  should  test  the  Queen’s  affe&ion  for  himself  by 
flirting  with  one  of  her  ladies. 

Leicester,  being  at  his  wit’s  end,  said  he  would,  and 
fixed  on  Lettice  Knollys,  the  beautiful  young  Countess  of 
Essex,  for  the  dangerous  experiment. 

Once  begun,  the  flirtation  proceeded  apace,  to  the 
alarm  of  the  ladies  trembling  at  the  thought  of  what 
would  happen  when  the  Queen  became  aware  of  it. 

As  Leicester  avowedly  designed  to  arouse  Elizabeth’s 
jealousy,  he  ostentatiously  deserted  her  for  the  company 
of  Lettice,  who,  pleased  with  a  seeming  conquest,  did  all 
she  could  to  lure  him  on.  The  Queen  drew  her  own 
conclusions  and  drew  them  strong,  so  that  even  Leicester 
was  aghast  at  the  storm  he  had  raised.  Lettice  fell  from 
her  high  place  in  Elizabeth’s  friendship  for  ever,  whilst 
the  Maids  of  Honour  had  a  sorry  time  listening  to  the 
ravings  of  a  jealous  woman  who  heretofore  had  never 
dreamt  of  a  rival. 

The  Earl  of  Sussex  and  Sir  William  Cecil  found  the 
Palace  in  such  an  uproar  that,  much  as  they  disliked 
Leicester,  they  united  in  an  endeavour  to  prevent  the 
Queen  making  herself  ridiculous.  Through  their  media¬ 
tion  a  meeting  was  arranged  between  the  two  aggrieved 
parties.  Elizabeth  wept,  upbraiding  the  Earl  for  unfaith¬ 
fulness,  whilst  he  on  bended  knee  begged  forgiveness, 
promising  never  to  offend  in  like  manner  again.  On  these 
terms  he  resumed  his  old  footing,  and  things  went  on 
exactly  as  before. 


CHAPTER  VI 


MBROSE  DUDLEY,  Earl  of  Warwick,1  made  no 
L.  1  attempt  to  emulate  his  brother  in  the  precarious 
-a.  -Imposition  of  Queen’s  favourite.  Elizabeth  honoured 
him  as  a  good  man,  and  brave  soldier,  to  whom  she  gave 
command  of  an  expedition  to  Normandy  in  support  of 
the  Huguenots. 

During  the  siege  of  Havre,  Warwick  received  a  wound 
in  the  leg  which  incapacitated  him  for  further  active  ser¬ 
vice,  and  on  his  return  to  Court  he  looked  round  among 
the  ladies  for  one  who  would  make  him  a  third  wife.  His 
choice  fell  on  Ann  Russell,  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the 
Maids  of  Honour,  and  as  she,  the  Queen,  and  her 
father  were  willing  the  betrothal  took  place  at  once. 
Pietro  Bozzari,  an  Italian  poet,  waxed  eloquent  concern¬ 
ing  the  prospedlive  bride. 


“To  the  Lady  Anne  Russell 

O  to  how  blest  a  lot  is  he  commended 

Who,  winning  thee,  with  virtue  will  embrace 
A  form  like  Helen’s,  by  delight  attended, 

And  tender  love,  and  every  virgin  grace — 

Thee,  o’er  whose  cheek  ingenuous  honour  throws 
Her  exquisitest  rose! 

Though  thine  be  genius,  thou  dost  deign  to  cherish 
Genius  with  care — with  many-languaged  powers 
Reaping  the  spoils  of  deeds  that  ne’er  shall  perish, 

1  He  married,  1st,  Anne,  d.  of  William  W.  Horwood;  2ndly, 
Elizabeth,  d.  of  George,  Lord  Talboys;  3rdly,  Ann  Russell. 

54 


55 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Speeding  with  lyre  or  lute  th’  enchanted  hours, 

Or  broidering  webs  whose  beauty  well  might  dare 
Arachne  to  despair. 

Why  should  I  say  with  what  refined  discreetness 
Thy  converse  teems?  Why  speak  thy  charming  voice? 

Thy  gaze — thy  steps — thy  smile  so  full  of  sweetness — 

Or  thrilling  dance,  if  dancing  be  thy  choice? 

Why  speak  of  aught,  when  all  thou  say’st  and  dost 
Is  beautiful  and  just.”1 

The  wedding  was  fixed  for  the  1 1  th  of  November,  1565, 
and  the  courtiers  determined  to  make  the  day  a  memo¬ 
rable  one,  if  they  could  obtain  the  Queen’s  permission  for 
a  grand  tournament.  Accordingly  they  waited  on  her  at 
the  Earl  of  Bedford’s  house  at  Ivy  Bridge  in  the  Strand, 
where  she  had  gone  to  pay  a  visit  to  Cecilia,  Margravine 
of  Baden,  sister  of  her  former  admirer  Eric,  King  of 
Sweden.  Four  days  after  her  arrival  in  England  the  Mar¬ 
gravine  gave  birth  to  a  son  to  whom  Elizabeth  stood  god¬ 
mother,  naming  the  child  Edward  Fortunatus. 

Elizabeth  and  her  ladies  were  being  entertained  at  a 
banquet  in  honour  of  the  new  baby,  when  a  herald  entered 
to  say  there  was  a  messenger  without  who  craved  to  speak 
with  the  Queen.  Permission  given,  in  came  Edwards  of  the 
Chapel  Royal,  booted  and  spurred  to  represent  a  postboy. 
Kneeling  down,  he  announced  that  four  valiant  knights, 
Henry  Knowles,  Christopher  Hatton,  Thomas  Leighton 
and  Robert  Colsett,  wished  to  “hold  joust  and  barriers” 
at  the  marriage  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  Lady  Ann 
Russell. 

The  Queen  gave  her  consent,  whereupon  up  stepped 
1  Memoirs  of  the  House  of  Russell ,  J.  Wiffen. 


56  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

the  Earl  of  Leicester,  Lord  Herbert,  Arthur,  Lord  Grey, 
and  twenty  other  gentlemen  to  announce  their  acceptance 
of  the  challenge. 

That  all  knights  might  have  warning  of  the  impending 
tournament  a  notice  was  affixed  to  the  Court  gate  at 
Westminster: 

“You  that  in  warlike  ways  and  dedes  of  arms  delight, 

You  that  for  cuntryes  cause  or  ells  for  ladyes  love  dare  fyght 
Know  you  foure  knights  ther  be  that  come  from  foren  land 
Whos  hawtye  herts  and  corage  great  hath  mov’d  to  take  in  hand, 
With  sword,  with  speare  and  shild,  on  fote,  on  horsebacke  to, 
To  try  what  you  by  force  of  fyght,  or  otharwyse,  can  do 
Prepare  your  selves  therfore  this  challenge  to  defend, 

That  trompof  fame  your  pro  wes  great  abrodmaysoundandsend. 
And  he  that  best  can  do,  ye  same  shall  have  the  prize. 

Ye  day,  ye  place,  and  forme  and  fyght,  loo  here  before  your 
eyes.”1 

Elizabeth,  to  do  honour  to  Ann,  one  of  her  closest 
friends,  arranged  that  the  wedding  should  take  place  in 
the  private  chapel  at  Whitehall.  The  Maids  of  Honour 
who  were  to  be  bridesmaids  held  anxious  consultation  as 
to  their  dresses.  Ann  wished  them  all  to  be  alike,  and 
eventually  they  decided  on  green  velvet  and  silver  lace, 
over  kirtles  of  yellow  satin. 

The  bride’s  wedding  dress  was  of  cloth  of  silver  shot 
with  blue,  and  an  over  dress  of  purple  velvet  richly  em¬ 
broidered  in  silver.  On  her  head  she  wore  a  dainty  caul 
of  fretted  gold,  and  very  charming  indeed  did  she  look, 
when  the  two  young  bachelors,  the  Earls  of  Rutland2 

1  Stowe’s  Memoranda. 

2  Edward,  3rd  Earl  of  Rutland,  sue.  his  father  in  1563,  when  he 
became  one  of  the  Queen’s  Wards. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  57 

and  Oxford,1  came  to  lead  her  forth  on  the  wedding 
morning. 

The  bridegroom  wore  a  suit  of  gold  and  purple  trimmed 
with  sables,  whilst  his  brother,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  in 
gold-embroidered  purple  satin,  gave  the  bride  away. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony  there  was  a  grand 
banquet  in  the  council  chamber,  “at  a  long  board  well  set 
with  lords  and  ladies.”  After  the  usual  speeches  and  com¬ 
pliments,  the  ladies  of  the  bridal  party  adjourned  to  the 
gallery  overlooking  the  tilt  yard,  whilst  the  competitors 
hastened  off  to  don  their  armour. 

The  tournament  lasted  for  three  days,  the  challengers 
making  their  head-quarters  at  the  Queen’s  Mews,  and  the 
defendants  with  the  Earl  of  Leicester  at  Durham  House. 

An  unfortunate  accident  marred  the  conclusion  of  the 
wedSng-day  festivities,  for  in  compliment  to  the  Earl  of 
Warwick,  as  Master  of  the  Ordinance,  Robert  Thomas, 
“a  valiant  serviceable  man,”  arranged  a  discharge  of 
cannon  “which  terribly  yielded  forth  the  nature  of  their 
voice,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  diverse.”  By  mis¬ 
chance,  at  the  second  firing  the  master  gunner  “was  un¬ 
happily  slaine  by  a  piece  of  one  of  the  chambers,  to  the 
great  sorrow  and  lamentation  of  many.”2 

Ann  Russell’s  was  by  no  means  the  only  wedding,  for 
matrimony  played  havoc  among  the  ladies  of  the  privy 
chamber,  who  one  by  one  forsook  the  cult  of  Cynthia  in 
order  to  take  unto  themselves  husbands.  Philadelphia 
Carey  married  Thomas,  Lord  Scrope;  her  sister  Kate, 

1  Edward  Vere,  17th  Earl  of  Oxford,  Crown  Ward,  also  under 
Burleigh.  2  Stowe’s  Chronicle. 


58  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Lord  Charles  Howard,1  “a  hearty  gentleman,  and  cordial 
to  his  sovereign  and  of  a  most  proper  person.”2  Katherine 
Knevett  left  to  become  Lady  Paget,3  and  Cecilia  Knollys 
the  bride  of  Sir  Thomas  Leighton,  one  of  the  challengers 
who  had  tilted  so  bravely  at  Ann  Russell’s  wedding. 

Frances  Radcliffe,  with  never  a  thought  of  Shan 
O’Neil,  engaged  herself  to  Sir  Thomas  Mildmay,  a  son 
of  Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 
The  wedding  festivities  were  on  a  grand  scale,  the  Queen 
and  foreign  Ambassadors  being  present.  The  latter  were 
not  entirely  an  unmixed  blessing,  for  the  rivalry  between 
the  representatives  of  France  and  Spain  was  so  intense 
that  in  matters  of  precedence  neither  would  give  way  to 
the  other.  The  patriotic  feelings  of  their  respective  suites 
likewise  ran  so  high  that  an  encounter  between  the  two 
parties  generally  ended  in  bloodshed. 

English  courtiers  held  both  nationalities  in  poor  esteem, 
declaring  that  the  only  difference  between  them  lay  in  the 
fact,  that  the  Frenchmen  were  wiser  than  they  looked, 
whereas  the  Spaniards  seemed  wiser  than  they  were. 

The  Earl  of  Sussex  and  Sir  Walter  Mildmay  waited  on 
the  Queen  to  know  if,  and  how,  they  should  invite  the 
Ambassadors  to  Frances  Radcliffe’s  wedding.  In  the  end 
the  French  Ambassador  came  to  the  bridal  dinner,  and  the 
Spanish  Ambassador  to  supper,  Elizabeth  being  present  at 

1  Son  of  William,  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham,  Lord  High 
Admiral  against  the  Armada.  Created  Earl  of  Nottingham  1597- 
Brother  of  Mary  Howard. 

2  Fuller’s  Worthies. 

3  Henry,  2nd  Lord  Paget;  she  m.,  2ndly,  Sir  Edward  Carey, 
master  of  the  jewel  house. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  59 

both  and  dividing  her  favours  with  striCt  impartiality  be¬ 
tween  the  jealous  representatives  of  her  rival  suitors. 

Though  the  Queen’s  Maids  of  Honour  were  sadly  de¬ 
pleted,  she  did  not  lose  their  services,  for  Lady  Warwick, 
Lady  Charles  Howard,  Lady  Scrope,  Lady  Leighton  and 
Lady  Paget  all  returned  to  Court  as  ladies  of  the  bed¬ 
chamber. 

The  young  matrons,  in  full  consciousness  of  their  dig¬ 
nity  as  married  women,  were  by  no  means  disposed  to  be 
relegated  to  the  position  of  a  background  which  they  had 
unwillingly  occupied  as  unmarried  girls.  Instead  they 
showed  every  disposition  to  make  themselves  as  prominent 
and  attractive  as  they  possibly  could. 

Elizabeth  wished  to  emphasize  the  importance  of 
royalty,  by  establishing  a  monopoly  of  everything  likely  to 
enhance  a  Queen.  This,  with  so  many  ladies  eager  to 
emulate,  if  they  could  not  rival  their  mistress,  she  found 
by  no  means  easy.  Did  the  Queen  wear  silk  stockings,  then 
no  more  cloth  hose  for  the  ladies  of  the  privy  chamber. 
With  their  ankles  all  alluringly  outlined  by  silk  stockings, 
they  waited  for  Elizabeth  to  state  a  new  fashion,  which 
hotfoot  they  must  have  too.  Lace  ruffs,  kept  in  place  by 
wire  “supportasses,”  were  common  neckwear  at  Court, 
but  the  year  of  Ann  Russell’s  wedding  saw  the  introduc¬ 
tion  of  an  innovation  which  revolutionized  ruffs.  Mistress 
Dinghen,  a  Dutch  woman,  came  to  England,  and  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  demonstrate  the  uses  of  starch.  Englishwomen, 
quickly  appreciating  the  possibilities  of  this  new  method, 
flocked  to  Mistress  Dinghen,  eagerly  proffering  the  .£5  fee 
which  she  charged  for  initiating  pupils  into  the  mysteries 


60  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

of  starching,  with  an  extra  twenty  shillings  for  instruction 
in  making  starch.  Steel  or  silver  poking  sticks  were  next 
used  in  preference  to  the  old-fashioned  setting-sticks,  and 
a  new  industry  sprang  into  being. 

Higgins,  a  tailor,  established  a  great  reputation  for  his 
ruffs  or  picardels,  and  his  shop,  in  a  road  above  West¬ 
minster  called  Piccadilly,  held  infinite  variety  of  them, 
“either  clogged  with  golde,  silver,  or  silk  lace  of  stately 
price,  wrought  all  over  with  needle  work,  speckled  and 
sparkled  heer  and  there  with  the  sonne,  the  moone,  the 
starres,  and  many  other  antiquities  strange  to  beholde. 
Some  are  wrought  with  open  woorke  down  to  the  midst 
of  the  ruffe  and  further,  some  with  purled  lace  so  cloyd, 
and  other  gewgawes  so  pestered,  as  the  ruffe  is  the  least 
parte  of  itself.”1 

Higher  and  higher  soared  the  Queen’s  ruffs;  in  stiffened 
emulation  followed  those  of  her  ladies.  The  Puritans,  who 
considered  all  vanity  a  sin,  tried  honestly,  but  quite  un- 
availingly,  to  check  the  prevailing  fashion.  They  might  call 
starch  the  “devil’s  liquor,”  tell  a  harrowing  story  of  a 
young  Dutch  lady,  who  when  she  couldn’t  get  her  ruff  to 
set  properly,  said  the  devil  might  take  her  if  she  ever  wore 
one  again.  The  devil  did  take  her;  he  appeared  at  once 
in  the  guise  of  an  obliging  gentleman,  who  offered  to 
arrange  the  ruff,  but  instead  twisted  her  neck.  Her  coffin, 
seeming  strangely  heavy,  was  opened,  and  found  to  con¬ 
tain  a  black  cat  and  burnt  ruffs.  The  ladies  heard,  not 
entirely  disbelieving;  but  beyond  a  resolution  not  to  let 
unknown  gentlemen  fasten  their  ruffs,  they  were  no  whit 
1  The  Anatomie  of  Abuses,  Philip  Stubbes. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  6i 

deterred  from  wearing  them  as  fine,  and  as  large  as 
possible. 

Another  exponent  in  the  art  of  starching  was  the  wife 
of  Boonen,  the  Queen’s  coachman, who  himself  introduced 
an  even  more  astounding  novelty  in  the  use  of  coaches. 
Heretofore  young  and  intrepid  ladies  rode  on  horseback; 
older  or  more  timorous  ones  sat  pillioned  behind  their 
husbands  or  menfolk,  whilst  the  infirm  were  carried  in 
horse  litters. 

The  first  coaches  caused  a  sensation,  being  regarded  as 
very  strange  “monsters,”  the  sight  of  which  “put  both 
horse  and  man  into  amazement.”  Comfortable,  certainly 
they  were  not,  for,  being  devoid  of  springs,  they  jolted  the 
occupants  unmercifully  as  they  rumbled  over  the  cobbled 
streets. 

Elizabeth,  though  she  complained  bitterly  of  stiffness 
as  the  result  of  a  drive,  considered  that  the  prestige  was 
worth  it,  and  ordered  several  coaches  to  be  built  for  her 
with  all  speed.  One  was  to  be  lined  with  red  leather, 
another  upholstered  in  black  velvet  embossed  with  gold; 
all  of  them  richly  gilded,  and  adorned  with  waving  ostrich 
plumes.  The  sight  of  these  equipages  roused  the  envy  of 
all  the  ladies,  though  the  Queen  discountenanced  the  idea 
of  coaches  being  used  by  anyone  but  royalty.  In  State  pro¬ 
cessions  she  rode  in  one  alone,  the  others  following  empty 
the  ladies  of  the  privy  chamber  following  on  horseback  as 
before. 

Young  married  ladies,  however,  importunated  their 
husbands  that  they,  too,  might  have  coaches.  No  more 
would  they  look  favourably  on  rich  saddles,  litters  or 


62  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

pillions;  coaches  they  wanted,  and  nothing  else  would 
satisfy  them.  Craftily  they  urged  the  convenience,  and 
lessening  of  expense  it  would  mean,  for  when  a  lady  of 
quality  rode  abroad  she  must  have: 

“Six  or  eight  servingmen  to  attende  her,  she  must  have 
one  to  carrie  her  cloake  and  Hood,  least  it  raine,  another 
her  fanne,  if  she  use  it  not  herselfe,  another  her  Boxe  with 
Ruffes  and  other  necessaries,  another  behinde  whom  her 
Mayde  or  Gentlewoman  must  ryde,  and  some  must  be 
loose  to  open  gates,  and  supply  other  services  that  may  be 
occasioned.  Now  to  deminish  and  cut  of  this  charge,  as 
well  of  horse  as  men,  there  is  now  a  new  invention ,  and  that 
is,  she  must  have  a  coach,  wherein  she,  with  her  Gentle¬ 
women,  Mayde,  and  Chyldren,  and  what  necessaries  as 
they  or  any  of  them  are  to  use,  may  be  caryed  and  con¬ 
veyed  with  smaller  charge,  lesse  cost,  and  more  credite,  as 
it  is  accompted.”1 

In  the  end  the  husbands  capitulated:  “and  after  a 
while  divers  great  ladies,  with  as  great  jealousy  of  the 
Queen’s  displeasure  made  them  coaches,  and  rid  them  up 
and  downe  the  countries  to  the  great  admiration  of  all 
beholders.”2 

1 A  Health  to  the  Gentlemanly  Pro fession  o f  Servingmen, 
by  W.W.  2  Stowe’s  Annales. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE  introduction  of  coaches  did  not  diminish  the 
importance  of  the  Thames,  which  still  remained 
the  chief  highway  between  London  and  West¬ 
minster.  All  the  large  houses  along  the  Strand  whose 
spacious  gardens  ran  down  to  the  river  had,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  their  landing-stages  and  private  barges,  with  a 
staff  of  watermen.  Sergeant-porter  Keyes,  keeper  of  the 
Queen’s  Watergate  at  Whitehall,  was  the  biggest  man  em¬ 
ployed  about  the  Court,  for  he  stood  six  feet  six  inches  in 
his  socks,  and  was  of  girth  proportionate.  The  young 
Maids  of  Honour  had  a  warm  corner  in  their  hearts  for  the 
jovial  widower  who  claimed  connection  with  the  Knollys 
family,  and  used  to  give  many  parties  in  his  room  over  the 
Watergate,  where  would-be  voyagers  found  shelter  and 
hospitality  when  tide  or  weather  proved  contrary. 

Lady  Mary  Grey  came  there  in  company  with  the  other 
girls,  and  something  in  the  forlorn  little  creature’s  appear¬ 
ance  touched  the  heart  of  the  gigantic  sergeant-porter. 
Tragedy  marked  her  as  one  apart  from  her  companions 
who  prattled  lightly  of  love,  in  confident  security  that  a 
prince  charming  would  surely  come  for  them;  only  for 
Lady  Mary  did  there  seem  no  hope  of  a  husband.  As  a 
child  of  eight  she  had  been  betrothed  to  Arthur,  Lord 
Grey  de  Wilton,  but  when  tragedy  overtook  the  Suffolk 
family,  he,  like  Lord  Herbert,  repudiated  his  intended 
bride.  No  other  suitor  appeared  for  Lady  Mary,  who  after 
her  sister  Catherine’s  disgrace  remained  on  at  Court  lonely 
and  forgotten.  She  had  not  grown  much  in  her  nineteen 

63 


64  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

years,  being  only  four  feet  in  height — “little,  crooked 
back  and  very  ugly,”  the  Spanish  Ambassador  described 
her;  yet  withal  of  true  Tudor  blood  and  possibly  future 
Queen  of  England. 

Sharp-tongued,  kindly-hearted  Blanche  Parry,  who 
ruled  the  privy  chamber  with  a  rod  of  iron,  befriended 
the  little  princess  all  she  could,  knowing  full  well  what 
small  chance  she  had  of  happiness,  and  the  practical 
certainty  that  Elizabeth  would  never  allow  her  to  marry. 

Love,  however,  which  laughs  alike  at  Queens  and 
locksmiths,  did  eventually  come  to  little  Lady  Mary  in  the 
very  unexpected  guise  of  Sergeant-porter  Keyes.  Closely 
she  hugged  her  secret,  looking  forward  eagerly  to  the 
river  excursions,  when  coming  or  going,  she  might  hope 
for  a  few  words  from  the  big  man  whose  eyes  said  more 
than  his  lips  found  opportunity.  Now  and  again  he  gave 
her  presents:  a  little  mother-of-pearl  scent-bottle  hanging 
on  a  gold  chain,  two  tiny  rings;  gifts  which  Lady  Mary 
stored  in  her  trinket-box  and  gazed  at  when  alone. 

One  day  Sergeant  Keyes  told  Lady  Mary  that  he  loved 
her,  and  she  in  happiness  gave  assent.  Though  both  had 
witnessed  the  consequence  of  Lady  Catherine  Grey’s 
secret  marriage,  they  were  not  intimidated  thereby,  but 
resolved  to  risk  all  in  a  like  hazard  as  soon  as  might  be. 
The  celebration  of  a  Court  wedding  in  August,  1565,  at 
which  the  Queen  would  be  present,  seemed  a  fitting 
opportunity,  and  Sergeant  Keyes  arranged  to  give  a  party 
to  the  ladies,  in  order  that  Lady  Mary’s  presence  at  the 
Watergate  might  be  accounted  for. 

After  the  other  Maids  of  Honour  had  returned  to  the 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  6 5 

Palace,  a  priest  came  up  the  stairs,  and  there  in  the  room 
over  the  Thames  he  joined  together  in  the  bonds  of  holy 
matrimony,  Sergeant-porter  Keyes,  widower,  Keeper  of 
the  Queen’s  Watergate,  and  Lady  Mary  Grey,  spinster, 
heir  to  the  throne  of  England. 

Before  the  end  of  the  service  some  one  knocked  at  the 
locked  door,  and  Mrs.  Arundell  inquired  anxiously  for  the 
whereabouts  of  Lady  Mary  Grey,  who  could  not  be 
found  at  the  Palace.  To  delay  meant  discovery,  so  the 
little  bride  put  on  her  hood,  and  bidding  her  husband  a 
demure  good  night  hastened  back  with  her  friend. 

Lady  Mary’s  secret  did  not  remain  a  secret  for  more 
than  a  week  or  two,  when  Queen  and  Ministers  were  alike 
thrown  into  consternation  by  the  discovery  of  what  had 
taken  place.  “Here  is  an  unhappy  chance  and  mon¬ 
strous,”  wrote  Sir  William  Cecil,  “the  Sergeant  Porter, 
being  the  biggest  gentleman  in  the  Court,  hath  married 
secretly  the  Lady  Mary  Grey,  the  least  of  all  the  Court.”1 
Courtiers  regarded  the  affair  as  a  huge  joke,  the  disparity 
in  birth  and  size  of  the  newly-wed  couple  calling  forth 
innumerable  witticisms. 

Elizabeth  saw  no  humour  in  the  situation  whatever, 
being  furious  that  another  of  the  Grey  girls  should 
presume  to  flout  her  authority  She  had  been  angry  with 
Lady  Catherine  for  making  a  suitable  match,  and  now  was 
equally  incensed  with  Lady  Mary  for  making  an  unsuitable 
one. 

To  the  Fleet  prison  went  Sergeant-porter  Keyes,  and 
into  the  strait  keeping  of  the  Mother  of  the  Maids  Lady 

1  Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  Times,  Wright. 


66  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Mary,  till  Elizabeth  could  find  some  one  to  take  charge  of 

her.  This  unwelcome  dutv  fell  to  the  lot  of  Mr.  William 

✓ 

Hawtry,  of  Chequers,1  in  Buckinghamshire,  who  received 
command  to  come  over  to  Windsor  and  take  Lady  Mary 
back  home  with  him. 

The  beautiful  house  and  grounds  among  the  Chiltern 
Hills  held  no  charm  for  Lady  Mary,  who  sought  solace 
in  her  books.  These  were  mostly  of  a  religious  nature,  and 
of  a  sufficiently  depressing  nature  to  satisfy  the  most 
exadling  Puritan.  Three  editions  of  the  Bible  and  a  book 
of  Common  Prayer  had  Lady  Mary;  a  French  dictionary 
and  an  Italian  Commentary,  Mr.  Knox  his  Answer  to  the 
Adversary  oj  God’s  Predestination  Mr.  Knewstubbe’ s 
Readings ,  A  he  Ship  of  Assured  Safety ,  Mr.  Cartwright’s 
First  and  Second  Reply ,  A  he  Hunter  of  the  Romish  Fox , 
Godly  Mr.  Whitgift’s  Answer ,  A  he  Duty  of  Perseverance , 
A  he  Edic  of  Pacification ,  Sermons  of  the  Four  Evan¬ 
gelists,  A  he  Book  o f  Martyrs,  and  others  of  a  like  nature. 

Lady  Mary  wrote  to  Sir  William  Cecil,  begging  him 
to  use  his  powerful  influence  with  the  Queen  for  her 
forgiveness  “for  my  great  and  heinous  crime.” 

Persistently  did  she  entreat  permission  to  plead  her 
cause  in  person,  assuring  Sir  William  Cecil  of  her  complete 
repentance. 

“Good  Master  Secretary,  I  have  received  your  message 
you  sente  me  by  Master  Hawtry,  wherein  I  do  parceive 
you  are  in  doubt  whether  I  do  contenew  in  my  folly  or 
no;  which  I  assure  you  I  do  as  much  repent  as  ever 
dyd  any,  not  only  for  that  I  have  thereby  geven  occasyon 

1  Now  the  country  residence  of  England’s  Prime  Minister. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  67 

to  my  enymyes  to  rejoy es  at  my  fond  harte,  but  also  for 
that  I  have  thereby  incurred  the  Queene’s  Majestes 
desplessur,  which  is  the  greatest  greff  to  me;  for  that  the 
princes  favor  is  not  so  sonn  gotten  agayn,  and  I  assure 
you  to  be  without  it  is  such  a  greff  to  any  true  subjedtes 
harte,  as  no  turment  can  be  greatter,  as  I  most  wofull 
wrecke  have  to  well  tryd;  desiringe  rather  deathe  then  to 
be  any  longer  without  so  greatt  a  jewel,  as  her  Majesties 
favor  should  be  to  me.  Wherefor  for  God  sake,  as  you 
have  begun  for  to  be  a  means  to  her  Majeste  in  gettinge 
me  this  great  and  longe  desired  treasure,  so  continew 
untell  you  have  made  me  so  happy  as  to  obtain  it  for  me, 
and  this  I  leve  to  trubell  you  any  forther  at  this  tyme, 
prayinge  to  God  to  send  you  prossperus  suces. 

From  Chekers  the  vij  daye  of  February  1566. 

Yours  to  commande  during  my  lyfe 

Mary  Grey.”1 

The  little  prisoner  did  not  regain  her  freedom,  but  after 
a  year  at  Chequers  Mr.  Hawtry  was  told  to  take  his  charge 
up  to  London  and  hand  her  over  to  her  step-grand- 
mother,  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk.2 

Any  possibility  of  that  lady’s  refusal  was  negatived  by 
the  simple  expedient  of  not  consulting  her  at  all  in  the 
matter.  Therefore,  when  Mr.  Hawtry,  with  Lady  Mary 
on  a  pillion  behind  him,  rode  up  to  the  house  in  the 
Minories  where  the  duchess  resided,  the  surprised  lady 
gave  them  but  a  dour  reception. 

The  duchess,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  Lady  Mary’s 

1  Ellis’s  Original  Letters ,  Vol.  II. 

2  Baroness  Willoughby  de  Eresby  in  her  own  right.  She  became 
the  fourth  wife  of  Charles  Brandon,  Duke  of  Suffolk.  After  his 
death  she  married  Mr.  Richard  Bertie. 


68  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

relations,  considered  that  she  had  made  herself  ridiculous 
by  her  unequal  marriage,  the  odium  of  which  reflected  to 
a  certain  extent  on  them.  She  was  therefore  by  no  means 
pleased  to  have  the  young  lady  thrust  upon  her  without 
so  much  as  a  moment’s  warning.  Mr.  Hawtry  cut  short 
the  Duchess  of  Suffolk’s  tirade  at  the  injustice  of  such  an 
imposition,  by  producing  the  Queen’s  warrant,  on  the 
strength  of  which  incontestable  argument  he  washed  his 
hands  of  all  further  responsibility  and  departed. 

The  irate  duchess,  though  generally  kind  to  the  Grey 
girls,  especially  Lady  Mary,  who  had  frequently  stayed 
with  her  on  happier  occasions,  was  too  incensed  to  keep 
control  of  either  her  tongue  or  temper.  Angrily  she  turned 
on  the  weeping  visitor,  demanding  where  her  “stuff” 
was?  Guests  usually  brought  their  own  furniture  to  fill 
the  empty  chambers,  but  no  pack  mules  stood  about  the 
Minories  laden  with  Lady  Mary’s  goods  and  chattels.  As 
a  matter  of  fadf,  these  were  still  at  Court,  from  whence 
they  could  not  be  removed  without  a  royal  warrant. 

Bitterly  the  duchess  grumbled,  but  even  she  dared  do 
no  more,  and  despatched  messengers  round  to  friends  in 
the  Minories,  narrating  the  calamity  which  had  befallen 
her,  and  requesting  the  loan  of  any  spare  pieces  of 
furniture  they  happened  to  have  by  them. 

When  at  length  Lady  Mary’s  “stuff”  arrived  it  did 
not  find  favour  in  her  grandmother’s  critical  eyes,  who 
wrote  scathingly  to  Sir  William  Cecil  on  the  subject  of 
its  deficiency: 

“She  hath  nothing  but  an  old  livery  feather  bed,  all  to 
torn  and  full  of  patches,  without  either  bolster  or  counter- 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  69 

pane,  with  two  old  pillows,  one  longer  than  the  other,  an 
old  quilt  of  silk,  so  tattered  that  the  cotton  comes  out.” 

The  duchess  went  on  to  request  that  Lady  Mary  might 
be  provided  with  some  furniture  for  her  room: 

“Also  I  would  if  I  durst,  beg  further  some  old  silver 
pots  to  fetch  her  drink  in,  and  two  little  silver  cups  for 
her  to  drink  out  of,  one  for  her  beer,  the  other  for  her 
wine.  A  silver  basin  and  ewer,  I  fear,  were  too  much; 
but  all  these  things  she  lacks,  and  it  were  meet  she  hath, 
but  she  hath  nothing  in  the  world.”1 

Lady  Mary  began  by  crying  herself  ill;  the  excitement 
of  her  marriage,  followed  by  the  shock  of  its  discovery, 
anxiety  about  her  imprisoned  husband,  combined  with 
her  own  utter  loneliness,  had  reduced  the  girl  to  a  pitiable 
state.  “I  trust  she  will  do  well  hereafter,”  wrote  the 
duchess,  “for  not  with  standing  that  I  am  sure  she  is 
very  glad  to  be  with  me,  yet,  I  assure  you,  she  is  otherwise, 
not  only  in  countenance,  but  in  very  deed,  so  sad  and  so 
ashamed  of  her  fault — I  think  it  is  because  she  has  never 
seen  me  since  before — so  that  I  cannot  yet,  since  she 
came,  get  her  to  eat.  All  she  hath  eaten  now  these  two 
days  is  not  so  much  as  a  chicken’s  leg.” 

After  the  first  strangeness  had  worn  off,  Lady  Mary 
settled  down  happily  at  the  Minories,  striking  up  a  great 
friendship  with  her  two  young  relatives,  Peregrine  and 
Susan  Bertie. 

The  death  of  Lady  Catherine  Grey2  on  January  27th, 

1  Calendar  of  Domestic  State  Papers. 

2  Lady  Catherine  died  of  decline  whilst  in  the  custody  of 
Sir  Owen  Hopton  at  Yoxford  in  Suffolk.  She  and  her  husband 
never  met  again  after  they  parted  in  the  Tower. 


70  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

1568,  brought  this  peaceful  existence  to  an  end,  for  as  the 
Earl  of  Hertford’s  children  were  declared  illegitimate, 
Lady  Mary  Grey  became  heiress  presumptive  to  the 
English  throne. 

As  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk,  who  had  been  exiled  for  her 
faith  under  Queen  Mary,  had  great  influence  with  the 
Protestant  party,  who  staunchly  upheld  the  claims  of 
the  Suffolk  line  in  opposition  to  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 
Elizabeth  did  not  choose  that  the  now  important  wife  of 
Sergeant  Keyes  should  remain  longer  in  her  charge.  She 
therefore  caused  Lady  Mary  to  be  removed  to  the  custody 
of  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  the  great  London  merchant. 

The  new  arrangement  did  not  prove  a  success.  Lady 
Mary  was  miserable,  and  detested  Sir  Thomas,  who  did 
not  want  to  be  bothered  with  her.  Over  and  over  again  he 
wrote  to  Sir  William  for  “the  removing  of  my  Lady  Mary 
Grey,”  his  wife’s  “bondaige  and  harte  sorrowe.” 

These  requests  were  ignored  till  the  autumn  of  1571, 
when  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  received  word  that  Sergeant 
Keyes  had  died  at  Lewisham,  just  after  his  release  from 
the  Fleet  prison. 

Sir  Thomas  at  once  wrote  to  Sir  William  Cecil  for 
instrudlions,  informing  him  of  the  effedl  the  news  had  had 
on  Lady  Mary: 

“His  death  she  very  grievously  taketh:  She  hath 
requested  me  to  write  to  you  to  be  a  means  to  the 
Queen’s  majesty  to  be  good  to  her  and  that  she  may  have 
her  Majesty’s  leave  to  keep  and  bring  up  his  children.  As 
I  likewise  desire  to  know  her  Majesty’s  pleasure,  whether  I 
shall  suffer  her  to  wear  any  black  mourning  apparel  or  not. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  71 

Trusting  that  now  I  shall  presently  be  despatched  of  her 
by  your  good  means.”1 

Lady  Mary  also  besought,  that  “as  God  had  taken 
away  the  cause  of  Her  Majesty’s  displeasure,”  she  might 
be  allowed  to  go  and  live  with  her  stepfather,  Mr.  Adrian 
Stokes,  and  his  second  wife,  the  widow  of  Sir  Nicholas 
Throckmorton.  Eventually  this  came  to  pass,  and  in  time 
Lady  Mary  became  her  own  mistress,  and  owner  of  a 
house  in  Aldersgate.  Occasionally  she  visited  Court,  where 
Blanche  Parry  never  failed  to  give  her  kindly  welcome. 
She  attended  the  Christmas  festivities  held  at  Hampton 
Court  in  1576,  when  she  presented  Elizabeth  with  a  New 
Year’s  gift  of  “four  dozen  buttons  of  gold,  in  each  of 
them  a  seed  pearl,  and  two  pairs  of  sweet  gloves.”  In 
return  the  Queen  gave  Lady  Mary  a  silver  cup  and  cover. 

There  were  not  many  more  opportunities  of  recon¬ 
ciliation,  sincere  or  hollow,  between  the  Queen  and 
heiress  presumptive,  for  on  April  20th,  1578,  little  Mary 
Grey  ended  her  life  at  the  age  of  thirty-four. 

In  her  will  she  remembered  the  friends  who  had  been 
kind  to  her,  and  left  tokens  to  those  she  loved. 

“To  the  duchess  of  Suffolk  one  paire  of  hand  Brace- 
letts  of  gould  with  a  jacinte  stonne  in  each  Bracelette 
which  bracelettes  were  my  late  Mother’s,  or  els  my  juell 
of  unicornes  home.”2 

To  Lady  Throckmorton  a  “bowlle  of  silver  with  a 
cover,”  and  to  her  very  good  friend  Mrs.  Blanche  Parry 
“a  little  gilt  bowlle  with  a  cover  to  it.” 

1  Calendar  of  Domestic  State  Papers ,  1571. 

2  Lansdowne  MSS...  XXVII,  31. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


SIR  THOMAS  GRESHAM,  who  had  so  reluc¬ 
tantly  adled  as  custodian  to  Lady  Mary  Grey, 
earned  deep  gratitude  from  all  the  Maids  of 
Honour  by  providing  the  most  wonderful  shopping  centre 
in  London.  He  did  not  do  so  out  of  compliment  to  the 
Queen’s  ladies,  but  rather  to  establish  the  worth  of 
British  merchants.  Travelling  much  on  the  Continent,  Sir 
Thomas  contrasted  the  halls  of  the  Hans  towns  with  the 
inadequate  accommodation  provided  for  business  men  in 
his  own  country.  Many  of  them  arranged  contracts  in 
Lombard  Street,  “but  their  meetings  were  unpleasant 
and  troublesome,  by  reason  of  walking  and  talking  in  an 
open  street.”1 

Anything  in  the  nature  of  a  hall  they  had  not,  and,  for 
want  of  some  such  place,  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral  had  become 
the  general  place  of  assemblage.  There  in  the  middle  aisle, 
known  as  “Mediterranean,”2  merchants  discussed  deals, 
lawyers  met  their  clients,  gallants  their  friends,  masters 
engaged  servants,3  thieves  picked  pockets.  Some  made 
their  reputations  there,  far  more  lost  them. 

James  Pilkington,  Bishop  of  Durham,  preaching  at  St. 
Paul’s  Cross  after  the  Cathedral  had  been  struck  by  light¬ 
ning  in  1561,  said  plainly  that  it  was  a  judgment  for  its 
secular  abuses: 

1  Stowe’s  Chronicle. 

2  Here  Ben  Jonson  lays  the  opening  scene  of  the  third  act  of 
Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour. 

3  Falstaff  says  disparagingly  of  Bardolph,  “I  bought  him  in 
Pauls,”  2nd  King  Henry  IV,  III,  2. 

72 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  73 

“The  south  alley  for  Popery  and  usury,  the  north  for 
simony,  and  the  horse  fair  in  the  midst  for  all  kinds  of  bar¬ 
gains,  meetings,  brawlings,  murders,  conspiracies,  and  the 
font  for  ordinary  payment  of  money,  as  well  known  as  the 
beggar  knows  his  bush.” 

Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  on  the  death  of  his  only  son,  de¬ 
termined  to  use  his  great  wealth  for  the  benefit  of  the 
city,  and  to  erect  a  Bourse  on  Cornhill  for  the  use  of 
London  merchants.  The  Queen,  consulted  in  the  matter, 
gave  her  unqualified  approval,  coupled  with  a  promise 
that  on  its  completion  she  would  pay  it  a  visit. 

This  took  place  on  the  23rd  January,  1571,  to  the  joy 
of  the  Maids  of  Honour,  for,  owing  to  the  plague,  Eliza¬ 
beth  had  not  visited  the  city  for  two  years.  The  village  of 
Westminster  might  be  both  healthy  and  fashionable,  but 
the  Court  ladies  pined  for  a  sight  of  the  mercers’  shops 
again. 

London  citizens,  betwixt  love  of  their  Queen  and  pride 
in  the  fine  new  building  surmounted  by  the  grasshopper1 
crest  of  the  Greshams,  made  the  day  a  memorable  one. 
Church  bells  rang,  houses  were  decorated,  streets  fresh 
gravelled,  whilst  members  of  the  city  companies  in  new 
liveries  lined  the  way.  Women  and  children  hung  far  out 
of  the  gabled  houses  waving  their  handkerchiefs  in  wel¬ 
come;  irresponsible  blue-gowned  apprentices  threw  up 
their  caps,  and  shouted  themselves  hoarse  as  the  Queen 
entered  the  city  at  Temple  Bar,  passing  along  Fleet  Street 

1  “And  now  he  plies  the  news-full  grasshopper 
Of  voyages  and  ventures  to  inquire.” 

Hall’s  Satires. 


74  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Cheapside,  and  Cornhill,  to  Sir  Thomas  Gresham’s  house 
in  Bishopsgate. 

The  banquet  provided  proved  worthy  of  the  wealthy 
host’s  reputation,  consisting  as  it  did  of  every  possible 
variety  of  rare  and  costly  food  served  up  on  massive  plate. 
Feasting  and  dancing  lasted  all  the  afternoon,  to  the  im¬ 
patience  of  the  Maids  of  Honour  who  were  afire  to  see  the 
wonders  of  the  Bourse. 

Sir  Thomas,  in  order  to  make  a  great  show  on  the 
occasion  of  the  Queen’s  visit,  had  offered  the  shops  in  the 
Paune1  rent  free  for  a  year  to  those  who  would  stock  and 
furnish  them  with  wax- lights  on  that  day.  Tradesmen 
eagerly  availed  themselves  of  the  offer,  so  that  the  stalls 
“were  plenteously  stored  with  all  kinds  of  rich  wares  and 
fine  commodities.”2 

The  Paune  scintillated  with  myriads  of  candles,  when 
Elizabeth  after  viewing  the  spacious  halls  below  came  up¬ 
stairs  to  see  the  shops.  In  great  good  humour  she  expressed 
admiration  of  all  she  saw  and,  calling  for  a  trumpeter, 
bade  him  loud-voiced  proclaim  her  pleasure  that  the 
building  should  be  called  the  “Royal  Exchange,  and  so  to 
be  called  from  thence,  and  not  otherwise.” 

Maids  of  Honour,  fingering  the  ryalls3  and  angels  in 
their  silk  purses,  lingered  round  the  stalls  wdiere  nimble- 
tongued  apprentices  cried  their  goods  with,  “What  lack 

1  Paune  derived  from  Dutch  -pandt.  Originally  meaning  a  covered 
cloister,  it  came  to  be  used  for  shops. 

“One  of  them  gave  me  this  same  ruffe  of  Laune 
It  cost  me  three  pound,  but  last  week  in  the  Paune.” 

A  Crew  of  Kind  Gossips.  S.  Rowlandson. 
3  A  ryall=l5s.  An  angel=ios. 


2  Stowe’s  Chronicle. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  75 

ye,  gentlewomen,  what  lack  ye?”  The  girls  felt  they 
lacked  many  things  with  the  wealth  of  the  Paune  displayed 
before  their  eager  eyes.  Mercer’s  rolls  of  thick  pile  velvet 
and  shimmering  silks,  in  all  the  most  fashionable  shades  of 
Pease  Porridge  tawny,  dead  Spaniard,  Goose-turd  green, 
Popingay  blue,  Lady’s  blush,  lusty  gallant,  Devil  in  the 
Hedge,  Drakes  colour,  and  Marigold.  Ruffs  of  filmy  lace, 
gossamer  scarves,  embroidered  gloves,  and  coloured  silk 
stockings,  were  beyond  the  powers  of  any  Maid  of  Honour 
to  resist. 

At  the  shoe  stalls  were  velvet  slippers  to  match  the 
mercer’s  stockings,  together  with  stouter  shoes  of  Spanish 
leather,  embroidered  in  gold  and  silver,  being  rendered 
more  completely  sedudtive  by  sparkling  buckles. 

Silversmiths  offered  glittering  necklaces,  rings,  pen¬ 
dants,  jewelled  hair-pins,  and  chased  pomanders.1  Apothe¬ 
caries  lured  all  the  descendants  of  Eve  with  jars  of  sweet¬ 
smelling  unguents,  washes  and  wherewith  cunning  de¬ 
vices.  Studious  girls  lingered  at  the  booksellers,  whilst 
prospective  brides  inspedfed  household  linen.  All  of  them 
yearned  to  try  on  the  hats  at  the  milliners,  who  mixed 
these  wares  with  “mouse-trappes,  bird-cages,  shooing- 
horns,  lanthorns  and  Jewes  trumpets,”  on  which  the 
Maids  of  Honour  gazed  without  enthusiasm. 

Very  loath  were  they  to  leave  such  manifold  attradtions 
when  at  length  the  Queen  called  them  to  attend  her  down¬ 
stairs.  In  contrast  to  the  brilliance  within  the  Royal 

1  Pomanders  were  either  hollow  to  contain  a  ball  of  scent  or 
fashioned  like  an  orange,  the  quarters  being  filled  with  sweet¬ 
smelling  essences.  Ladies  wore  them  at  the  end  of  their  girdles. 


76  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Exchange,  the  night  seemed  dark  and  cheerless,  as  the  girls 
waited  whilst  link  boys  sought  for  their  horses  fidgeting 
fretfully  in  the  frosty  air. 

Homeward  they  rode  between  lines  of  torch-bearers, 
the  flickering  flames  casting  weird  shadows  on  the  caval¬ 
cade  as  it  passed  along  the  narrow,  crowded  streets.  Rush¬ 
lights  twinkled  in  the  lattice  windows  of  the  overhanging 
houses,  and  mothers  lifted  little  children  from  their  beds 
that  they  might  see  “Good  Queen  Bess”  pass  by. 

Soon  after  visiting  the  Royal  Exchange  Elizabeth  moved 
to  Hampton  Court,  when  a  spell  of  bad  weather  kept  the 
household  within  doors.  The  Maids  of  Honour  piled  on 
the  logs  in  their  sitting-room,  extending  numb  fingers 
over  the  flames  which  seemed  to  catch  refledlion  from  the 
gilt  ceiling  above,  and  the  bright  gold  threads  of  the  arras 
on  the  walls.  Outside  snow  and  sleet  billowed  over  the 
park,  lashing  the  usually  placid  Thames  into  angry  waves, 
and  hurtled  against  the  window-panes  as  if  to  contrast  the 
comfort  within  to  the  discomforts  of  the  open. 

The  little  group  of  girls  sitting  on  cushions  round  the 
fire,  working  or  reading,  comprised  many  new  arrivals  who 
had  come  to  fill  the  places  vacated  by  marriage.  Mary 
Howard’s  two  younger  sisters  Frances  and  Katherine 
joined  her  in  the  privy  chamber,  among  their  companions 
being  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings,1  Mary  Shelton,2  Eliza¬ 
beth  Stafford,3  Catherine  and  Eleanor  Bridges,4  Isabel 

1  d.  of  Francis,  2nd  Earl  of  Huntingdon. 

2  d.  of  Sir  John  Shelton,  of  Shelton,  Norfolk. 

3  d.  of  Sir  W.  Stafford,  of  Grafton.  Her  mother,  Lady  Stafford, 
was  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  bedchamber,  and  served  the  Queen 
for  forty  years. 

4  d.’s  of  Edmund  Lord  Chandos. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  77 

Holcroft1  and  Ann  Cecil,2  “a  very  accomplished  and 
learned  lady.” 

Ann  possessed  domestic  talents  as  well,  and  whilst  her 
friends  bent  over  their  embroidery  frames,  she  plied  the 
spinning  wheel  her  father  had  given  to  her  for  a  New 
Year’s  present  accompanied  by  some  verses  of  his  own 
composing: 

“To  Mistris  Anne  Cecill. 

As  yeres  do  growe,  so  cares  increase, 

And  tyme  will  move  to  looke  to  thrifte 
Though  yeres  in  me  work  nothing  lesse, 

Yet  for  your  yeres,  a  new-yeres  gifte 
This  huswife’s  toy  is  now  my  shifte; 

To  set  you  on  worke  some  thrifte  to  feele, 

I  send  you  now  a  spynning  wheele. 

But  one  thing  first  I  wishe  and  pray, 

Lest  thirste  for  thryfte  might  soone  you  tire 
Only  to  spynne  one  pound  a  daye. 

And  play  the  rest  as  tyme  require. 

Sweate  not  (oh  fy!)  fling  rock  in  fyre 
God  sende,  who  sendeth  all  thrifte  and  welth, 

You  long  yeres  and  your  father  helth!”3 

Ann  Cecil  might  be  the  cleverest  of  the  girls,  but 
Catherine  Bridges  carried  off  the  palm  as  Court  beauty. 
When  she  cut  her  forehead,  George  Gascoigne,4  the  poet, 
declared  that  envious  Cupid  “gan  rap  her  on  her  pate,” 

1  d.  of  Sir  Thomas  Holcroft,  of  Vale-Roval,  Cheshire. 

2  d.  of  Sir  William  Cecil  by  his  second  wife  Mildred,  one  of  the 
learned  daughters  of  Sir  Anthony  Coke. 

3  MS.  Lansdowne,  104,  76. 

4  George  Gascoigne,  poet,  wrote  Posies  of  George  Gascoigne , 
The  Glasse  of  Government ,  The  Princely  Pleasures  of  Kenilworth, 
The  Steele  Glas,  etc.  He  died  1577. 


78  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

because  he  feared  her  beauty  would  “break  him  of  his 
rest.”  No  scar,  however,  could  eclipse  “so  bright  a  sonne 
as  she.” 

“In  Prayse  of  Bridges. 

In  Court  who  so  demaundes 
what  dame  doth  most  excell, 

For  my  conceit  I  must  needes  say, 

Faire  Bridges  beares  ye  bell. 

Upon  whose  lively  cheek,  to  prove 
my  judgement  true. 

The  rose  and  lillie  seem  to  strive  for 
equall  change  of  hewe. 

And  there  withall  so  well  her 
Graces  all  agree 
No  frowning  cheere  dare  once 
Presume  in  her  sweet  face  to  bee. 

Although  some  lavishe  lippes 
Which  like  some  other  best 
Will  saye  the  blemishe  on  her  brow 
Disgraceth  all  the  rest.” 

As  usual  in  all  great  houses,  the  long  gallery  at  Hampton 
Court  contained  the  most  valuable  furniture  and  trea¬ 
sures.  Between  the  high  windows  stood  handsome  Court 
cupboards  filled  with  shining  plate;  cabinets  of  ebony 
and  tortoise-shell  dazzling  the  eye  by  their  treasures  of 
gold,  silver  and  precious  stones;  a  long  table  with  Bible 
stories  carved  in  mother-of-pearl;  virginals  made  of 
polished  wood  inlaid  with  precious  stones.  Pidlures  and 
tapestry  hung  on  the  walls;  one  or  two  chairs  of  State 
were  placed  for  the  Queen  and  distinguished  visitors,  with 
piles  of  gaily  hued  cushions  for  those  of  lesser  rank.  Here 
on  winter  evenings,  when  thick  velvet  curtains  shut  out 


Coll.  oj  Lord  De  I.' Isle  Photo  “  The  Connoisseur 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH  DANCING  WITH  THE  EARL  OF  LEICESTER 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  79 

the  chill  night,  the  Court  musicians  brought  their  instru¬ 
ments,  that  the  ladies  might  restore  their  circulations  by 
dancing.  The  Queen  and  her  friends  of  high  rank  danced 
first,  but  as  soon  as  they  had  finished  the  young  folk  took 
the  floor.  Courtiers  disencumbered  themselves  of  cloaks 
and  swords,  took  up  their  hats  (which  except  for  dancing 
might  not  be  worn  in  the  Queen’s  presence),  and  besought 
the  Maids  of  Honour  to  be  their  partners  for  the  galliard. 

Whilst  her  ladies  danced  the  Queen  looked  on,  calling 
first  one,  then  another,  of  the  company  to  converse  with 
her.  This  they  did  kneeling  before  her  chair,  whilst  down 
the  gallery  young  men  with  plumed  hats  held  over  their 
hearts  bowed  to  lithesome  ladies  who  curtsied  to  the 
ground. 

After  dancing  came  games:  chess,  draughts,  tables,1 
or  the  favourite  card  game  of  primero.  The  stakes  at 
primero  were  high,  and  Elizabeth,  when  she  took  a  hand, 
was  very  keen  after  her  winnings.  Lord  North,2  often  one 
of  the  players  at  the  Queen’s  table,  made  frequent  entry 
in  his  household  accounts  of  such  items  as: 

“Lost  at  play  with  the  Queen  £ 28 .” 

“Lost  at  play  with  the  Queen  £32.” 

“Lost  at  play  with  the  Queen  ^70. ”3 

Wherever  Elizabeth  was  she  had  to  be  amused,  and 
being  a  lady  of  more  than  average  intelligence,  neither  the 
antics  of  Robert  Greene,  the  Court  fool,  nor  the  sallies  of 

1  Backgammon. 

2  Roger,  2nd  Baron  North,  1530-1600;  Treasurer  of  Queen’s 
household  and  Privy  Councillor. 

3  Extracts  from  Lord  North’s  household  books.  Nicols’ 
Progresses. 


80  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

little  Mrs.  Thompson,  her  female  dwarf,  sufficed  for 
entertainment.  Far  more  to  the  Queen’s  taste  were  the 
performances  of  Dick  Tarleton,  a  famous  comedian  who 

“when  his  head  was  only  seene, 

The  Tire-house  doore  and  Tapistrie  betweene, 

Set  all  the  multitude  in  such  a  laughter, 

They  could  not  hold  for  scarse  an  hour  after.”1 

Ladies  and  courtiers  alike  rejoiced  to  hear  of  Tarleton’s 
arrival,  for,  apart  from  the  amusement  they  anticipated 
for  themselves,  he  did  not  fear  Elizabeth  in  her  worst 
tempers,  and  could  “un-dumpish  her  at  his  pleasure.” 

Performances  took  place  in  the  great  hall,  hung  with 
tapestry  representing  negroes  riding  on  elephants.  The 
Queen  on  her  chair  of  state,  ladies  and  courtiers  on 
cushions  and  joint-stools,  formed  the  audience,  who 
“began  exceedingly  to  laugh  when  Tarleton  first  peeps 
out  his  head.”2 

The  clown,  flat-nose,  squint-eyed,  roughish  faced, 
came  on  to  the  stage  beating  a  little  drum,®  as  preliminary 
to  one  of  his  famous  jigs,  which  he  danced,  sung  and 
acted.  Often  by  special  request  he  would  give  “Tarleton’s 
jigge  of  a  horse  loade  of  Fools,”  beginning: 

“What  do  you  lackef  What  do  ye  lacke? 

I’ve  a  horse  loade  of  fooles, 

Squeaking,  gibbering  of  everie  degree; 

Ime  an  excellent  workeman, 

And  these  are  my  tooles: 

Is  not  this  a  fine  merie  familie?” 

1  Thalia’s  Banquet,  Epigram  94.  Peacham. 

2  Nash’s  Pierce  Penile sse. 

3  In  1602  a  famous  game  cock  at  Norwich  was  called  Tarleton 
because  it  always  drummed  with  its  wings  before  fighting. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  8i 

One  night  Tarleton  convulsed  the  Court  by  appearing 
with  a  long  staff  in  his  hand,  and  a  flitch  of  bacon  strapped 
on  his  back.  Either  his  appearance  or  the  noise  of  clapping 
annoyed  the  Queen’s  little  dog  “Perrico  de  Faldas,”  for 
he  suddenly  left  the  shelter  of  his  mistress’s  farthingale, 
and  leapt  upon  the  stage.  “Bow,  wow,  wow,”  barked 
Perrico  de  Faldas.  “Wow,  wow,  wow,”  jeered  Tarleton. 
The  little  dog  ran  at  the  clown;  the  clown  ran  at  the 
little  dog  with  his  long  staff.  Up  and  down  the  stage  they 
went  whilst  the  audience  rocked  with  merriment,  till  the 
Queen  bade  them  take  away  the  knave  for  making  her 
laugh  so  excessively. 


CHAPTER  IX 


"^HE  social  life  of  the  kingdom  rallied  round  the 
Queen,  to  whose  Court  flocked  all  the  chief  men 
of  the  time,  the  nobility,  rich  commoners  and 
aspiring  courtiers.  Her  own  especial  guard  of  honour,  the 
gentlemen  pensioners,  were  personable  young  men  of 
good  family  and  well-lined  pockets,  who,  clad  in  black 
cloaks  and  carrying  gilt  battle-axes,  played  an  important 
part  in  all  Court  ceremonies.  Also  there  were  the  esquires 
of  the  body,  gentlemen  ushers,  gentlemen  of  the  privy 
chambers,  and  others  holding  various  Court  appointments. 

All  these  professed  extravagant  devotion  to  the  Queen, 
but  at  the  same  time  they  were  by  no  means  blind  to  the 
charms  of  her  Maids  of  Honour.  Each  lady  had  her 
avowed  “servant,”  who  extolled  his  mistress’s  beauty, 
both  in  prose  and  verse.  In  her  name  and  honour  he  tilted 
at  the  tournaments,  earnestly  begging  a  “favour,”  by 
which  he  might  signify  her  acceptance  of  his  homage. 

These  favours  took  various  forms:  a  bracelet  made  of 
the  adored  one’s  hair,  her  glove  which  the  gentleman 
stuck  in  his  hat,  her  garter  to  be  worn  round  his  sleeve; 
her  ribbon  which,  if  he  was  one  who  wore  long  hair,  he 
tied  in  his  locks.1  Sometimes  the  girls  worked  “little  hand¬ 
kerchiefs  of  above  three  or  four  inches  square,  wrought 
round  about;  with  a  button  or  a  tassel  at  each  corner; 


1  Fast:  Faith,  here  be  some  slight  favours  of  hers,  sir,  that  do 
speak  it  she  is;  as  this  scarf,  sir,  or  this  riband  in  my 
ear,  or  so;  this  feather  grew  in  her  sweet  fan  some¬ 
times.  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  II,  i. 

82 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  83 

these  edged  with  gold  lace  were  placed  in  the  gentlemen’s 
hats,  as  favours  of  their  Loves  and  mistrisses.”1 

Among  the  ladies’  special  friends  were  Mr.  Thomas 
Coningsby,2  known  to  be  “very  far  in  love”  with  Frances 
Howard;  Mr.  James  Scudamore,  who  nourished  a  secret 
flame  for  Mary  Shelton  ;3  Lord  Herbert,  “the  best 
horseman  and  tilter  of  his  time,”  an  admirer  of  Lady 
Elizabeth  Hastings;  and  the  studious  Earl  of  Rutland,  who 
had  begun  to  pay  very  special  attention  to  Isabel  Holcroft. 

Edward  Vere,  the  erratic  young  Earl  of  Oxford, 
professed  no  particular  regard  for  any  of  the  ladies, 
nearly  all  of  whom  were  wildly  in  love  with  him.  Being 
one  of  the  Queen’s  wards  he  had  been  brought  up  at 
Court,  where  he  early  distinguished  himself  in  shooting, 
dancing,  riding  and  many  other  accomplishments,  whilst 
he  had  a  way  with  the  ladies  that  seemingly  none  of  them 
could  resist. 

To  male  eyes  he  appeared  less  attractive,  and  Gabriel 
Harvey  described  him  unflatteringly  in  a  rattling  bundle 
of  hexameters: 

“Strait  to  the  back,  like  a  shirt,  and  close  to  the  breech  like  a 
diveling; 

A  little  apish  hat,  couched  fast  to  the  pate,  like  an  oyster; 

French  cambric  ruffs,  deep  with  a  witness,  starched  to  the  pur¬ 
pose; 

Delicate  in  speech;  quaint  in  array;  conceited  in  all  points; 

In  courtly  guiles,  a  passing  singular  odd  man.” 

1  Harrison’s  Description  of  England. 

2  Son  of  Humphrey  Coningsby  of  Hampton  Court,  Hereford¬ 
shire. 

3  Edward  Somerset,  sue.  his  father  as  4th  Earl  of  Worcester, 

1588. 


84  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

The  ladies,  however,  saw  no  flaws  in  their  idol,  and 
continued  to  la y  their  hearts  at  his  feet.  Finding  conquest 
so  easy,  the  Earl  of  Oxford  affedted  to  doubt  the  con¬ 
stancy  of  womenfolk,  and,  sonnets  being  all  the  rage,  he 
composed  one  likening  the  ladies  to  hawks  used  in 
falconry. 

“If  Women  Could  be  Fair1 

If  women  could  be  fair,  and  yet  not  fond 
Or  that  their  love  were  firm,  not  fickle,  still, 

I  would  not  marvel  that  they  make  men  bound. 

By  service  long  to  purchase  their  good  will; 

But  when  I  see  how  frail  those  creatures  are, 

I  muse  that  men  forget  themselves  so  far. 

To  make  the  choice  they  make,  and  how  they  change 
How  oft  from  Phoebus  they  do  flee  to  Pan, 

Unsettled  still,  like  haggards2  wild,  they  range — 

Those  gentle  birds  that  fly  from  man  to  man; 

Who  would  not  scorn  to  shake  them  from  the  fist 
And  let  them  fly,  fair  fools,  which  way  they  list. 

Yet  for  disport,  we  fawn  and  flatter  both, 

To  pass  the  time  when  nothing  else  can  please; 

1  Hannah’s  Courtly  Poets. 

2  A  falcon  captured  when  full  grown.  These  took  longer  to 
train,  but  were  highly  esteemed  for  their  prowess. 

“Another  way  I  have  to  man  my  haggard, 

To  make  her  come  and  know  her  keeper’s  call; 

That  is,  to  watch  her,  as  we  watch  these  kites 
That  bate  and  beat  and  will  not  be  obedient. 

She  eat  no  meat  to-day,  nor  none  shall  eat; 

Last  night  she  slept  not,  to-night  she  shall  not.” 

Taming  of  the  Shrew,  IV,  1. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  85 

And  train  them  to  our  lure1  with  subtle  oath, 

Till  weary  of  their  wiles,  themselves  we  ease: 

And  then  we  say,  when  we  their  fancy  try, 

To  play  with  fools,  oh,  what  a  fool  was  I!” 

Soon  after  his  coming  of  age  the  Earl  of  Oxford  took 
part  in  a  grand  tournament  held  at  Whitehall.  Dressed  all 
in  “crimson  velvet,  very  costly,”  the  Earl  called  himself 
the  Red  Knight,  the  three  other  challengers  being  Lord 
Charles  Howard,  the  White  Knight;  Sir  Henry  Lee,  the 
Green  Knight;  and  Christopher  Hatton,  the  Black 
Knight. 

Very  gay  looked  the  decorated  tilt  yard  that  bright  May 
morning,  when  the  Queen  and  her  ladies  took  their  seats 
in  the  long  gallery,  from  whence  a  broad  flight  of  steps 
ran  down  to  the  ground.  Being  a  gala  day,  the  benches 
round  the  course  were  filled  with  spectators  who  had 
come  from  London  in  order  to  see  the  sport.  Those  who 
could  afford  it  paid  twelvepence  for  a  seat;  those  who 
could  not  jostled  each  other  for  standing  room  outside 
the  enclosure. 

Trumpeters  and  heralds  announced  the  names  of 
challengers  and  defenders,  who,  clad  in  armour,  their 
helmets  crested  by  waving  ostrich  plumes,  rode  forward 
on  “high  bounding”  horses  richly  caparisoned  in  velvet 
trappings.  At  the  foot  of  the  gallery  stairs  the  competitors 
made  obeisance  to  the  Queen,  whilst  attendant  squires 
presented  their  banners,  and  made  request  for  permission 
to  enter  for  the  forthcoming  tournament. 

1  A  dummy  or  dead  bird.  “As  falcon  to  the  lure,  away  she 
Flies.” — Venus  and  Adonis. 


86  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

The  Maids  of  Honour  had  very  special  interest  in  the 
banners,  for  the  old  custom  of  armorial  bearings  had 
given  place  to  more  fantastic  devices.  Many  of  the 
emblematical  pidfures  bore  intended  reference  to  the 
Queen,  coupled  with  the  expression  of  the  tilters’  hopes 
and  fears  concerning  her  attitude. 

Over  and  over  again  was  Elizabeth  typified  as  the  sun, 
whose  rays  reflected  either  towards  or  away  from  some 
objedf  in  representative  allusion  to  the  bearer’s  name  or 
crest.  One  aspirant  presented  a  white  shield,  with  the 
inscription  “Fatum  inscribat  Eliza”;  another,  “a  glorious 
lady  in  a  cloud  in  the  one  syd  and  a  sunne  in  the  other; 
beneath  a  sacrifice  of  hands,  hartes,  armes,  pennes,  etc.”1 

Courtiers,  with  lesser  aspirations  or  deeper  affe&ions, 
had  spent  much  time  evolving  designs  which  should  make 
direft  appeal  to  the  younger  Court  ladies  whose  favours 
they  proudly  wore.  “An  amorous  affedtion”  was 
instantly  noted  in  he  who  displayed  “an  eye  in  a  heart, 
with  the  words  ‘Vulnus  alo.’”  Another  “doubted  not 
his  continual  suit  would  mollify  his  mistress’  heart, 
which  made  an  eye  dropping  tears  upon  a  heart”  with 
“Saepre  Cadinodo.”  A  courtier  who  knew  he  had  many 
rivals  showed  a  number  of  flies  round  a  lighted  candle. 
One  more  fortunate  proudly  showed  a  letter.  “Lege  et 
relege”  was  his  motto. 

All  eyes  turned  to  Frances  Howard  when  Thomas 
Coningsby  rode  up,  and  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
whilst  his  squire  presented  his  banner.  This  bore  the 
device  of  “a  white  lion  devouring  a  young  coney,” 
beneath  the  reproachful  words,  “Call  you  this  Love?” 

1  John  Manningham’s  Diary. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  87 

Frances  grew  red:  Queen  and  ladies  laughed  outright, 
for  none  could  fail  to  understand  the  allusion  to  the 
Howard  family  crest  and  the  pun  on  Mr.  Coningsby’s  name. 

Competitors  rode  round  the  enclosure,  then  challengers 
and  defendants  being  at  opposite  ends  of  the  course,  they 
prepared  for  combat.  With  visors  up  and  lances  couched, 
at  a  given  signal  they  ran  full  tilt,  meeting  with  the  shock 
of  encounter  in  front  of  the  Queen’s  gallery.  Many  staves 
were  broken,  some  riders  were  unhorsed,  but  the  skill 
acquired  at  the  quintain  enabled  most  of  them  to  remain 
in  the  saddle. 

Anything  that  fell  to  the  ground — helmets,  ostrich 
plumes,  stirrups,  parts  of  harness,  or  even  the  horses 
if  they  and  the  riders  were  overthrown — alike  were 
accounted  forfeit  to  the  heralds  and  officers  of  arms. 
They  could,  however,  be  redeemed  for  a  fixed  sum,  that 
of  a  horse  and  harness  being  twenty  pounds. 

At  the  end  of  the  tournament  the  ladies  ran  down  to 
lead  the  victors  up  the  steps  to  the  Queen’s  presence. 
Elizabeth  presented  the  Earl  of  Oxford  with  a  tablet  of 
diamonds;  Charles  Howard  with  a  chain,  Sir  Henry  Lee 
with  a  diamond,  and  Sir  Christopher  Hatton  with  a  gold 
bell  and  chain. 

The  ladies  lost  one  of  their  chief  favourites  when  the 
Earl  of  Rutland,  following  the  usual  custom  for  young 
men  of  good  birth,  went  to  travel  on  the  Continent. 
Though  fearing  he  would  offer  “his  services  and  good 
liking  to  the  French  ladies,”  the  girls  used  to  write  him 
joint  letters,  to  show  that  they  at  any  rate  were  constant 
in  affe&ion. 


88  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

His  close  personal  friends,  Richard  Brackinbury,1  and 
George  Delves2  one  of  the  gentleman  pensioners,  also 
proved  good  correspondents,  not  forgetting  to  give  news 
of  the  Maids  of  Honour.  Frances  Howard,  they  assured 
him,  continued  “in  perfect  health,  beloved  and  scorn- 
full,”  and  though  she  still  showed  indifference  to  Thomas 
Coningsby,  yet  so  great  was  his  affe&ion  that  the  Court 
generally  thought  that  in  the  end  she  would  relent 
towards  him.  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings  had  been  ill  and 
lost  her  looks. 

Of  the  Earl  of  Rutland’s  special  favourite,  Delves 
wrote  reassuring  news:  “Mrs.  Holcroft  is  without  love  or 
any  liking  of  her  to  my  thinking.  She  is  the  very  old 
woman  she  was,  for  I  cannot  get  more  familiarity,  except 
you  give  it  me  by  your  credit  and  direction.”3 

During  the  Earl  of  Rutland’s  absence  an  event  occurred 
that  shattered  the  hearts  of  the  Maids  of  Honour  at  one 
blow,  the  reason  whereof  Lord  St.  John  hastened  to 
tell: 

“Th’  Erie  of  Oxenforde  hathe  gotten  hym  a  wyffe — 
or  at  least  a  wyffe  hathe  caught  hym.  That  is  Mrs.  Anne 
Cecille,  whearunto  the  Queen  hathe  gyven  her  consent, 
the  which  hath  causyed  great  wypping,  waling,  and 
sorowful  chere,  of  those  that  hoped  to  have  hade  that 
golden  daye.  Thus  you  wray  see  whylst  that  some  triumphe 
with  oliphe  branchis,  others  folowe  the  chariot  with 
wyllowe  garlands.”4 

1  Son  of  Anthony  Brackinbury  of  Denton. 

2  George,  fourth  son  of  Sir  George  Delves,  Sheriff  of  Cheshire. 

*  Hist.  MSS.  Commission.  Duke  of  Rutland’s  MSS. 

4  Ibid. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  89 

Ann  Cecil  received  the  envious  congratulations  of  her 
friends,  but  Lord  Burleigh  who  had  been  the  Earl  of 
Oxford’s  guardian  during  his  minority  and  loved  him  as  a 
son,  was  not  without  misgivings.  There  had  been  some 
talk  of  a  marriage  between  Ann  and  Mr.  Philip  Sidney, 
whom  Lord  Burleigh  held  in  high  esteem;  but  nothing 
definite  had  been  concluded  as  Ann’s  father  wished  her 
to  see  more  of  the  world,  and  not  to  marry  before  the  age 
of  sixteen.  Ann,  however,  decided  for  herself,  and  when 
the  Earl  of  Oxford,  so  universally  adored  in  the 
privy  chamber,  offered  her  his  heart  she  accepted  it  in 
triumph. 

Ann  Cecil  was  not  the  only  bride  at  the  Palace,  for 
Mary  Howard  became  the  wife  of  Lord  Dudley,  Catherine 
Bridges  married  Lord  Sandes,  and  Lady  Elizabeth 
Hastings  Lord  Herbert,  who  reconciled  what  the  Queen 
said  she  had  hitherto  believed  impossible,  “a  stiff 
papist  to  a  good  subject.”  Elizabeth  Stafford,  seeing 
so  many  of  her  friends  leave,  announced  that  she  was 
“weary  of  the  spite  of  the  Court,”  and  intended  to 
marry  Sir  William  Drury  of  Hawsted  in  Suffolk,  whom 
her  friends  considered  would  make  her  a  suitable 
husband. 

Mary  Howard,  who  at  this  time  of  general  matrimony 
gave  her  hand  to  Lord  Dudley,  had  some  years  earlier 
figured  in  a  sensational  case.  Common  report  would  have 
it  that  she  and  a  certain  Mr.  Thomas  Southwell1  had 
contracted  a  secret  marriage,  and  though  both  parties 
indignantly  denied  it,  the  rumour  persisted,  till  at  length 

1  *.  Sir  R.  Southwell,  Master  of  the  Rolls  to  Henry  VIII. 


90  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

no  less  a  person  than  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
intervened  to  prove  the  validity  of  the  supposed  marriage. 
Mary  Howard,  on  being  examined,  admitted  that  Thomas 
Southwell  “was  a  suter  to  her  divers  and  sundrie  tymes 
in  the  waie  of  marriage,”1  but  she  denied  ordering  her 
wedding  dress,  and  “did  not  professe  to  the  saied  Mr. 
Southwell  that  if  ever  she  maried  any  she  wold  mary 
him.” 

Thomas  Southwell,  for  his  part,  declared  “that  he 
never  uttered  any  words  to  the  saied  mistris  Marie  that 
shold  induce  any  contracte  of  matrimonie  betwene  him 
and  the  same  Mistris  Mary.” 

After  due  deliberation,  the  Archbishop  decided  that 
there  was  not  sufficient  evidence  to  prove  the  marriage 
and  the  two  young  people  who  so  earnestly  desired  not 
to  spend  the  rest  of  their  lives  together  were  free. 

The  Earl  of  Rutland,  returning  at  a  time  when  there 
was  so  much  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  came  to 
an  understanding  with  Isabel  Holcroft.  Isabel,  a  practi¬ 
cal  young  lady,  wrote  to  tell  her  mother  of  the  happiness 
that  had  come  into  her  life,  and  to  ask  the  amount  of  her 

Julyan,  Lady  Holcroft  replied  to  her  prospective 
son-in-law: 

“  I  have  long  heard  of  the  great  good  wille  that  you 
have  borne  to  my  daughter,  and  of  your  mind  to  make 
her  your  wife.  She  has  now  told  me  that  you  are  fully 
determined,  and  she  asks  what  I  will  give  her.  She  desires 

1  Matthew  Parker’s  Register,  published  by  The  Canterbury  and 
York  Society. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  91 

a  very  great  sum  of  money,  but  says  that  you  will  marry 
her  whether  I  give  anything  or  no.  If  I  may  be  satisfied 
by  yourself  of  this,  I  will  you  her  demand  if  you  will 
take  it  in  reasonable  time.”1 

Ann  Cecil’s  married  life  did  not  bring  the  happiness 
that  she,  and  all  the  ladies  of  the  privy  chamber,  thought 
would  come  to  the  lucky  maiden  who  became  the 
Earl  of  Oxford’s  wife.  Ann  “tfras  virtuous;  but  he  a 
great  spender,”  and  there  were  troubles  almost  from  the 
first.  The  Earl,  recklessly  extravagant,  was  angered 
because  Lord  Burleigh  did  not  do  more  for  him,  and  in 
revenge  spread  abroad  lies  concerning  his  own  wife  and 
her  father.  Ann,  in  distress  at  these  totally  unfounded 
reports,  absented  herself  from  the  Court  she  had  recently 
left  in  such  elated  circumstances.  Lord  Burleigh  fearing 
that  his  daughter’s  absence  might  be  misconstrued,  wrote 
assuring  the  Queen  of  her  innocence.  Ann  was  and  always 
would  be,  “her  majesty’s  most  humble  young  servant,  as 
one  that  was  toward  her  majesty,  in  dutiful  Love  and 
Fear,  yea,  in  fervent  Admiration  of  her  Graces,  to  contend 
with  any  of  her  equals.”2 

Elizabeth’s  attitude  towards  the  Earl  varied;  some¬ 
times  she  rated  him  soundly,  at  others  she  flirted  with 
him  so  openly  that  Lady  Burleigh,  resenting  the  slight  on 
her  newly  married  daughter,  tried  to  make  her  husband 
interfere,  “but  at  all  theise  love  matters  my  Lord  Trea¬ 
surer  winketh,  and  will  not  meddle  anyway.” 

The  breach  between  the  Earl  and  his  wife’s  family 

1  Hist.  MSS.  Commission.  Duke  of  Rutland’s  MSS. 

2  Strype’s  Jnnals  of  the  Reformation. 


92  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

widened  after  the  execution  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.1  Lord 
Oxford  considered  Burleigh  could  have  saved  his  friend  if 
he  liked,  and  in  a  fit  of  passion  declared  he  would  ruin  the 
Lord  Treasurer’s  daughter.  In  pursuit  of  vengeance  he 
not  only  forsook  Ann,  but  started  to  dissipate  his  fortune 
with  a  recklessness  that  occasioned  the  Queen’s  displeasure. 

Ann  was  always  ready  to  forget  the  past  and  let  bygone, 
be  bygones,  but  though  there  were  occasional  reconcilia¬ 
tions  they  were  never  of  long  duration.  After  one  of  these 
brief  interludes  Ann  wrote  in  despair  to  her  husband: 

“My  Lord,  in  what  misery  I  may  accuse  myself  to  be 
that  neither  I  can  see  any  end  thereof,  nor  yet  any  hope, 
how  to  diminish  it.  And  now  of  late  having  some  hope  in 
my  own  conceit,  that  your  lordship  would  have  renewed 
some  part  of  your  favour  that  you  began  to  show  to  me 
this  summer,  when  you  made  me  assurance  of  your  good 
meaning,  though  you  seemed  fearful  how  to  shew  it  by 
open  adtions.  Now  after  long  silence  of  hearing  anything 
from  you,  at  length  I  am  informed  (but  how  bitterly  I 
know  not  and  yet  how  uncomfortably  I  do  feel  it)  that 
your  lordship  is  entered  into  some  new  misliking  of  me, 
without  any  cause  in  deed  or  thought.  And  therefore  my 
good  lord,  I  beseech  you,  in  the  name  of  God  that  knows 
my  thoughts,  my  love  towards  you,  notwithstanding  your 
evil  meaning  towards  me,  upon  what  cause  you  are  moved 
to  continue  me  in  this  misery;  and  what  you  would  have 
me  to  do  in  my  power,  and  to  recover  your  constant 
favour,  so  as  your  lordship  may  not  be  still  led  to  detain 
me  in  calamity,  without  some  probable  cause;  whereof 
I  appeal  to  God  I  am  utterly  innocent.”2 

1  Thomas  Howard,  4th  Duke  of  Norfolk.  Executed  for  his  com¬ 
plicity  with  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  1572. 

2  Strype’s  Annals  of  the  Reformation. 


CHAPTER  X 


ON  March  19th,  1 572,  Elizabeth  kept  her  Maundy1 
at  Greenwich,  the  great  hall  being  swept  and 
garnished  for  the  occasion.  At  the  upper  end 
stood  a  table  for  the  chaplain,  with  a  pile  of  soft  cushions 
and  a  praying  stool,  in  front  for  the  Queen.  Opposite  were 
long  tables  laden  with  gifts,  whilst  ranged  against  the  walls 
were  benches  for  the  beneficiaries. 

All  being  ready,  into  the  hall  hobbled  thirty-nine  old 
women  who  sat  down  on  the  forms,  endeavouring  to  look 
as  little  self-conscious  as  possible  under  exceptionally  try¬ 
ing  circumstances.  Towards  them  pompously  advanced 
the  yeoman  of  the  laundry;  washed  and  dried  the  thirty 
nine  old  ladies’  feet,  finally  imprinting  a  chaste  kiss  on  each 
of  their  horny  big  toes.  In  imitation  came  the  almoner, 
followed  in  turn  by  the  sub-almoner. 

These  preliminaries  ended,  the  Queen  entered,  mag¬ 
nificent  in  black  velvet,  followed  in  procession  by  thirty- 
nine  ladies  of  the  privy  chamber.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
special  service,  the  ladies  went  towards  the  long  tables, 
girded  themselves  with  aprons,  and  taking  up  thirty-nine 
basins  filled  with  warm  water  and  floating  flowers  prepared 
to  attend  the  Queen. 

Thirty-nine  acutely  nervous  old  ladies  wriggled  their 
feet  among  the  rushes  as  the  Queen  knelt  down  before 

1  This  ceremony,  common  to  most  Christian  countries,  was 
kept  in  remembrance  of  Christ’s  washing  his  disciples’  feet.  The 
sovereigns  publicly  washed  the  feet  of  their  poorest  subjedls  of 
numbers  commensurate  with  the  ruler’s  age. 

93 


t 


94  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

them  one  by  one,  and  washed,  dried,  crossed  and  kissed 
their  great  toes. 

Meanwhile  the  ladies  had  each  taken  a  dress  length  of 
broadcloth  which  the  Queen  presented  on  her  next  tour 
of  the  benches.  At  the  third  round  the  girls  each  handed 
her  a  pair  of  shoes;  for  the  fourth  they  carried  wooden 
platters  containing  sides  of  salmon,  ling,  six  red  herrings 
and  two  loaves  of  bread;  fifthly,  bottles  of  wine;  whilst 
at  the  sixth  each  lady  in  turn  took  off  her  apron  which 
the  Queen  presented  to  the  old  lady  whose  gifts  the  girl 
had  carried.  The  ladies  then  returned  to  their  places, 
whilst  the  Queen,  making  the  last  round  unattended,  pre¬ 
sented  white  leather  purses  containing  thirty-nine  pence, 
and  a  like  number  of  red  ones  holding  twenty  shillings. 
Then  back  to  their  private  apartments  went  Elizabeth  and 
her  ladies,  whilst  the  thirty-nine  old  ladies  thankfully  put 
their  much-washed  feet  into  their  woollen  hose. 

The  reiterance  made  of  her  thirty-nine  years  was  the 
least  pleasing  part  of  the  Maundy  ceremony  to  Elizabeth, 
who  much  disliked  anything  that  called  attention  to  the 
passage  of  time.  She  had  been  much  put  out  by  the  be¬ 
haviour  of  three  of  her  rejedfed  suitors  who  had  recently 
taken  unto  themselves  wives.  Thereby  they  caused  ex¬ 
treme  annoyance  to  the  virgin  Queen  of  England,  who 
liked  to  imagine  them  languishing  in  single  blessedness; 
when,  instead,  they  wedded  less  exadfing  princesses,  Eliza¬ 
beth  conceived  herself  very  grievously  affronted. 

The  King  of  France  being  one  of  the  defaulting 
bachelors,  his  mother,  Catherine  de’  Medici,  suggested  as 
substitute  her  second  son,  the  youthful  Duke  of  Anjou, 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  95 

nineteen  years  Elizabeth’s  junior.  According  to  the  pro¬ 
testations  of  his  mother  and  her  Ambassador,  Anjou  was 
represented  as  being  ardently  in  love  with  the  English 
Queen  of  whose  beauty  he  had  heard  so  much. 

So  long  as  the  courtship  could  be  conducted  by  proxy 
all  went  well,  but  a  serious  hitch  occurred  when  Elizabeth 
expressed  a  wish  to  see  the  prince  in  person.  This,  unfortu¬ 
nately  for  Catherine  de’  Medici,  could  not  be  managed 
without  her  son’s  consent,  and  when  approached  thereon, 
Anjou  not  only  flatly  refused  to  go  and  see  the  lady  of  his 
mother’s  choice,  but  in  emphatically  uncomplimentary 
terms  he  utterly  refused  to  marry  her. 

Elizabeth,  though  so  serenely  confident  of  her  charms 
that  she  saw  nothing  incongruous  in  the  idea  of  a  husband 
young  enough  to  be  her  son,  none  the  less  shivered  at  the 
prospect  of  old  age,  and  clutched  at  any  project  likely  to 
avert  it.  A  wily  Dutchman,  having  knowledge  of  the 
Queen’s  vanity  and  love  of  money,  lured  her  with  pro¬ 
mises  of  a  wonderful  elixir  which  would  not  only  ensure 
perpetual  youth,  but  also  transmute  base  metal  into  gold. 
Elizabeth,  lending  a  credulously  hopeful  ear  to  these 
attradfive  suggestions,  provided  the  magician  with  a 
laboratory  at  Somerset  House  and  bade  him  proceed  with 
all  possible  speed.  The  alchemist  set  up  his  crucibles; 
made  a  prodigious  amount  of  noise;  improvised  divers 
unpleasant  smells,  but  produced  nothing  of  material  value. 

Elizabeth  became  impatient;  unwillingly  she  saw  the 
crow’s-feet  forming  round  her  eyes,  and  the  glory  depart¬ 
ing  from  her  red-gold  hair;  urgently  she  wanted  the 
elixir. 


9 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

The  Dutchman  made  more  noise  and  worse  smells,  but 
no  elixir.  Elizabeth  lost  her  temper:  the  magician  re¬ 
ceived  an  ultimatum — the  elixir  or  the  Tower — noise  and 
smells  no  longer  availed  him,  and  to  the  Tower  forthwith 
he  departed. 

Dr.  Dee,  the  Mortlake  astronomer,  met  with  better 
success,  largely  owing  to  his  friendship  with  Mrs.  Blanche 
Parry,  who  caused  him  to  be  sent  for  with  all  haste  when 
an  event  occurred  which  seemingly  threatened  the 
Queen’s  life.  Someone  walking  in  Lincoln’s  Inn  Fields 
chanced  on  a  waxen  image  of  the  Queen  stuck  through 
and  through  with  pins.  At  the  sight  thereof  the  hearts  of 
the  stoutest  privy  councillors  quailed  within  them. 
Clearly  it  betokened  witchcraft  of  a  most  malignant  kind, 
and  unless  one  could  be  found  who  wrought  cunningly  in 
such  matters  the  Queen  must  assuredly  die. 

Dr.  Dee  found  a  weak-kneed  Court:  he  examined  the 
image,  confirmed  the  gravity  of  its  import,  but  bade  his 
hearers  take  heart,  for  he  alone  could  counteract  the  spells 
of  witchery.  With  pompous  solemnity  he  made  incanta¬ 
tions  and  performed  mystic  rites,  with  such  eminent 
success  that,  though  the  vital  parts  of  her  wax  prototype 
were  riddled  through  and  through  with  pins,  the  Queen’s 
health  remained  unimpaired,  and  Dr.  Dee’s  reputation 
was  established. 

Dr.  Dee’s  house  faced  the  river  at  Mortlake,  and  when 
the  Court  was  in  residence  at  Richmond  the  Maids  of 
Honour  would  coax  Mrs.  Blanche  to  take  them  over  that 
they  might  peer  into  the  dark  shroudings  of  the  future. 
Every  inch  a  magician  looked  Dr.  Dee,  a  tall,  thin  man  in 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  97 

a  long  black  robe,  with  a  skull  cap  on  his  bald  pate,  and  a 
long  white  beard  flowing  down  his  breast.  His  surround¬ 
ings  were  every  whit  as  awesome  as  his  appearance,  and  the 
half-frightened  girls  clutched  one  another  nervously  as 
they  entered  the  dark  library  full  of  parchments,  globes, 
scales,  crucibles  and  other  outward  signs  of  occult 
mysteries. 

Chief  attra&ions  in  the  girls’  eyes  were  the  magic 
crystal  wherein  they  might  see  pooled  the  vista  of  the 
future,  and  the  famous  mirror  within  whose  ebony  frame 
they  expedted  to  behold  the  features  of  their  future 
husbands. 

Elizabeth  heard  such  accounts  of  the  mirror  from  her 
ladies  that  she  must  needs  see  it  herself.  In  consequence, 
one  windy  March  day  a  gay  company  from  the  Court 
cantered  over  the  fields  from  Richmond  to  visit  the 
gratified  Dr.  Dee,  who  made  note  of  the  occasion: 

“The  Queen’s  majestie,  with  her  most  honourable 
Privy  Council,  and  other  of  her  Lords  and  nobility,  came 
purposely  to  have  visited  my  library:  but  finding  that 
my  wife  was  within  four  hours  before  buried  out  of  the 
house,  her  Majestie  refused  to  come  in,  but  willed  to  fetch 
my  glass  so  famous,  and  show  unto  her  some  of  the  pro¬ 
perties  of  it,  which  I  did;  her  Majestie  being  taken  down 
from  her  horse  by  the  Earle  of  Leicester,  Master  of  the 
Horse,  at  the  Church  wall  of  Mortlake,  did  see  some  of  the 
properties  of  that  glass  to  her  Majestie’s  great  content¬ 
ment  and  delight.”1 

If  Elizabeth  saw  a  man’s  face  in  the  mirror  she  kept  the 
knowledge  to  herself;  in  any  case  it  is  not  likely  to  have 
1  Dr.  Dee’s  Compendious  Memorial. 


98  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

been  that  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou  or  the  Earl  of  Leicester. 
It  is  true  negotiations  for  the  French  match  still  went  on, 
and  that  Leicester  openly  protested  his  devotion  as  of 
yore,  but  neither  suitor  proffered  suit  in  any  sincerity. 

Leicester  had  at  length  realized  that  he  would  never 
occupy  the  proud  position  of  Queen’s  consort;  but, 
though  he  still  wished  to  retain  the  place  of  chief 
favourite,  he  very  seriously  imperilled  his  position  by 
flirtations  among  the  ladies. 

Frances  Howard  and  her  married  sister  Douglas  (Lady 
Sheffield)  were  hot  rivals  for  his  notice.  They  showed  their 
feelings  so  openly  that  Lord  Talbot1  commented  on  the 
matter  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury: 

“My  Lord  of  Leicester  is  very  much  with  her  majesty 
and  she  shews  the  same  good  affedfion  to  him  that  she  was 
wont;  of  late  he  has  endeavoured  to  please  her  more  than 
heretofore.  There  are  two  sisters  now  in  the  Court  thay 
are  very  far  in  love  with  him,  as  they  have  been  long;  mg 
Lady  Sheffield  and  Frances  Howard;  they  (of  like  strivind 
who  shall  love  him  better)  are  at  great  wars  together,  an2 
the  Queen  thinketh  not  well  of  them  nor  better  of  him.”t 

Leicester  made  use  of  both  ladies,  and  when  he  fell  into 
disgrace  with  the  Queen  he  persuaded  Frances  Howard  to 
assist  in  a  stratagem  by  which  he  hoped  to  regain  favour. 
Writing  a  letter  “in  all  fraud  and  base  dissimulation,”  he 
addressed  it  to  Lord  Burleigh,  arranging  that  Frances 

1  Gilbert,  second  son  of  6th  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  m.  Mary 
Cavendish,  daughter  of  “Bess  of  Hardwick,”  his  stepmother;  sue. 
his  father  as  Earl  of  Shrewsbury. 

2  Lodge’s  Illustrations,  Vol.  II. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  99 

should  give  it  to  him  in  the  Queen’s  presence  in  such  a 
way  that  she  should  not  fail  to  observe  the  transaction. 

Frances  waited  till  Burleigh  had  nearly  reached  the  door 
of  the  audience  chamber,  when  she  stepped  forward  to 
hand  him  the  letter  in  seeming  secrecy,  “and  to  draw  the 
eye  and  attention  of  her  Highness  the  more  unto  it,  she 
let  fall  the  paper  before  it  touched  the  treasurer’s  hand.”1 

Elizabeth  instantly  commanded  the  note  to  be  brought 
to  her,  but  on  reading  it  she  quickly  saw  through  the  ruse, 
and  refused  to  take  the  contents  seriously. 

In  the  end  Lady  Sheffield  triumphed  over  her  un¬ 
married  sister,  so  that,  when  Lord  Sheffield  died,  scandal 
cast  dark  rumours  as  to  my  Lord  of  Leicester’s  proficiency 
in  the  subtle  art  of  poisoning. 

The  period  of  mourning  ended,  Douglas  expedled  that 
Leicester  would  take  steps  to  make  her  his  lawful  wife. 
To  her  dismay  he  evinced  no  particular  anxiety  to  do  any¬ 
thing  of  the  sort.  As  an  excuse  he  alleged  the  Queen’s 
anger,  consequent  on  the  fadl  that,  though  Elizabeth  did 
not  mean  to  marry  him  herself,  she  would  very  vehe¬ 
mently  objedl  to  his  being  the  husband  of  any  other 
woman. 

Lady  Sheffield,  however,  became  insistent,  and  eventu¬ 
ally  Leicester  reluddantly  agreed  to  a  secret  marriage  at 
Esher,  a  few  days  before  the  birth  of  their  child.2 

1  Lycester’s  Commonwealth. 

2  Lord  Robert  Dudley,  1573-1649. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  Duke  of  Anjou’s  positive  refusal  to  take  unto 
himself  a  bride  so  many  years  his  senior  placed 
his  mother  and  the  French  Ambassador  in  an  ex¬ 
tremely  difficult  position.  To  tell  Elizabeth  the  truth  was, 
of  course,  entirely  out  of  the  question,  but  even  two  such 
practised  dissimulators  found  a  really  plausible  lie  difficult 
to  come  by.  Eventually  they  decided  to  make  the  differ¬ 
ence  in  religion  a  pretext,  representing  the  Duke  as  an 
implacable  Catholic  who  would  require  all  the  outward 
pomp  and  ceremonial  attendant  on  Roman  Catholic 
observances. 

Elizabeth  at  once  said  that  in  a  Protestant  country  this 
could  not  be;  the  Prince  might  worship  as  he  pleased  in 
private,  but  outwardly  he  must  conform  to  the  established 
religion.  The  ambassador,  much  relieved  at  this  attitude, 
professed  himself  desolate:  the  Duke  of  Anjou  would  be 
heart-broken,  so  tenderly  was  he  attached  to  the  most 
beautiful  Princess  in  Europe,  but,  undoubtedly,  he  would 
sacrifice  himself  for  his  religion — such  was  the  devoutness 
of  French  princes. 

Catherine  de’  Medici,  loath  to  forgo  the  prospect  of 
being  mother-in-law  to  the  Queen  of  England,  suggested 
to  Fenelon  that  her  youngest  son  should  be  offered  as  a 
substitute  for  his  brother.  The  ambassador  accordingly 
“began  to  tickle  Queen  Elizabeth’s  ears  with  love-stories 
about  her  marriage  with  Alengon.”1  Artfully  he  described 
how  the  young  Duke  had  conceived  a  romantic  affedlion 

1  Camden. 


IOO 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  ioi 

for  the  beautiful  Virgin  Queen,  and  he  entreated  per¬ 
mission  to  pay  his  addresses.  Should  this,  the  darling  wish 
of  his  heart  be  acceded  to,  he  promised  accommodation 
on  the  score  of  religion. 

The  new  suitor  was  an  ugly,  undersized  boy  of  seven¬ 
teen,  with  an  abnormally  large  nose,  and  a  face  deeply 
pitted  with  small-pox.  This  last  proved  the  greatest 
detriment  in  Elizabeth’s  eyes.  The  Ambassador  could 
slur  over  the  disparity  in  age  by  representing  that 
Alengon  looked  fully  ten  years  older  than  he  was,  whilst 
she  appeared  far  more  than  ten  years  less  than  hers,  but 
pock-marks  were  a  very  material  matter  to  which  Elizabeth 
returned  over  and  over  again. 

Catherine  de’  Medici  gave  positive  assurance  that  the 
marks  were  negligible,  and  could  easily  be  cured  by  a 
physician  deeply  skilled  in  restoring  ruined  complexions. 
He  should  set  to  work  at  once  on  the  face  of  a  pock¬ 
marked  page;  if  he  proved  successful,  as  doubtless  he 
would,  he  should  proceed  forthwith  on  the  countenance 
of  Alen^on.  Before  this  design  could  be  put  in  execution 
the  young  prince  developed  measles,  when  his  mother 
hastened  to  convey  the  gratifying  tidings  that  the  rash 
of  the  new  disease  had  completely  obliterated  the  scars 
of  the  former. 

Elizabeth  knew  only  too  well  how  often  the  scourge  of 
small-pox  left  its  victim  disfigured  for  life.  She  had  been 
attacked  by  it  herself  and,  though  she  recovered  without 
blemish,  Lady  Mary  Sidney1  who  nursed  her  devotedly 

1  Sister  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  wife  of  Sir  Henry  Sidney, 
mother  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


102  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

and  eventually  contracted  the  disease,  was  by  no  means 
so  fortunate. 

Sir  Henry  Sidney  seeing  her  for  the  first  time,  wrote  in 
dismay:  “When  I  went  to  Newhaven,  I  left  her  a  full 
fair  lady,  in  mine  eye  at  least  the  fairest,  and  when  I 
returned  I  found  her  as  foul  a  lady  as  the  small-pox 
could  make  her;  which  she  did  take  by  continual  attend¬ 
ance  of  her  Majesty’s  most  precious  person.”1 

The  loss  of  her  beauty  caused  Lady  Mary  to  shun 
society  as  much  as  possible,  and  to  live  a  retired  life  in  the 
country.  When  Sir  Henry  Sidney  became  Lord  President 
of  Wales  he  and  his  family  took  up  their  residence  at 
Ludlow  Castle.  There  on  February  22nd,  1575,  they 
suffered  a  sad  loss  in  the  death  of  their  younger  daughter, 
Ambrozia.  Elizabeth  w'riting  the  bereaved  parents  a  letter 
of  condolence,  made  mention  of  their  elder  girl  Mary: 

“He  hath  left  unto  you  the  comfort  of  one  daughter  of 
very  good  hope,  whom,  if  you  shall  think  good  to  remove 
from  those  parts  of  unpleasant  air,  if  it  be  so,  into  better 
in  these  parts,  and  will  send  her  unto  us  before  Easter, 
or  when  you  shall  think  good,  assure  yourself  that  we  will 
have  a  special  care  of  her,  not  doubting  but,  as  you  are  well 
persuaded  of  our  favour  towards  yourself,  so  will  we  make 
further  demonstration  thereof  in  her;  if  you  will  send 
her  unto  us,  and  so  comforting  you  for  the  one,  and 
leaving  this  our  offer  of  goodwill  to  your  own  considera¬ 
tion  for  the  other  we  commit  you  to  Almighty  God.”2 

Mary  of  the  tawny  hair  welcomed  the  idea  of  going  to 
Court  for  the  opportunity  it  afforded  for  companionship 

1  Calendar  of  Domestic  State  Papers.  2  Ibid. 


Coll,  of  Duke  of  RuccUuch  Photo  Victoria  an  . 

Albert  Museum 

MARY  SYDNEY,  COUNTESS  OF  PEMBROKE 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  103 

with  her  beloved  brother  Philip.  The  bond  between  the 
two  was  unusually  close,  for  they  had  been  educated 
together,  growing  up  with  kindred  interests  and  an 
abiding  interest  in  literature.  Mary,  who  had  studied 
Latin,  Greek  and  Hebrew,  had  her  praises  sung  by 
Philip  Sidney’s  poet  friend,  Edmund  Spenser,  in  his 
poem  “Colin  Clout’s  Come  Home  Again.” 

“Urania  sister  unto  Astrophel 
Into  whose  brave  mind,  as  in  a  golden  Coffer. 

All  heavenly  gifts  and  riches  locked  are, 

More  rich  than  pearls  of  Ind  or  gold  of  Ophir, 

And  in  her  sex  more  wonderful  and  rare.” 

Philip  Sidney’s  two  chief  friends  at  Court  were  his  old 
school  friend,  Fulke  Greville,1  and  Edward  Dyer,2  both 
men  of  studious  tastes  like  his.  Dyer,  who  shared  with 
Sidney  the  honour  of  being  “the  two  very  diamondes  of 
her  maiesties  Court  for  many  special  and  rare  qualities,”3 
wrote  a  poem  to  prove  that  a  contented  mind  held  the 
secret  of  happiness: 

“My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is, 

Such  present  joys  therein  I  find, 

That  it  excels  all  other  bliss 

That  earth  affords  or  grows  by  kind: 

Though  much  I  want  which  most  would  have, 

Yet  still  my  mind  forbids  to  crave,”  etc. 

1  Son  of  Sir  Fulke  Greville.  Entered  Shrewsbury  School  the 
same  day  as  Philip  Sidney,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  under 
James  I,  who  created  him  Lord  Brooke,  died  1628. 

2  Son  of  Sir  Thos.  Dyer,  of  Somerset. 

3  Gabriel  Harvey  to  Spenser.  (Three  Proper  and  Wittie 
Familiar  Letters.) 


104  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Both  Philip  and  Mary  Sidney  were  with  the  Queen 
when  she  paid  a  nineteen  days’  visit  to  their  uncle,  the 
Earl  of  Leicester,  at  Kenilworth  Castle.  Great  festivities 
were  prepared  in  honour  of  the  occasion,  including 
pageants,  plays,  bear  baitings,  fireworks,  dancing  and 
sumptuous  banquets. 

On  leaving  Kenilworth,  Elizabeth  went  on  to  Chartley 
to  see  her  cousin,  the  Countess  of  Essex,  who,  in  the 
absence  of  her  lord  in  Ireland,  entertained  the  large 
party  of  guests.  Married  life  and  motherhood  had  in  no 
wise  diminished  the  charm  of  beautiful  Lettice  Knollys, 
and  the  Earl  of  Leicester  fell  once  more  under  her  spell. 
He  had  tired  of  his  second  wife,  Lady  Sheffield,  and 
desired  to  repudiate  his  secret  marriage  at  Esher,  but 
Douglas,  despite  bribes  or  threats,  utterly  refused  to 
disavow  it,  for  the  honour  of  her  son.  It  had  been  con¬ 
trived  with  such  secrecy  that  Leicester  had  little  to  fear 
on  that  score;  on  the  other  hand,  he  would  have  a  great 
deal  to  fear  if  the  Queen  discovered  he  had  embarked 
on  a  second  flirtation  with  the  Countess  of  Essex.  Both 
were  circumspedl,  but  the  old  flame  which  had  begun  in 
farce  flickered  up  again,  to  flare  in  earnest,  after  the  death 
of  the  Earl  of  Essex. 

Lettice  Knollys’s  children  had  inherited  their  mother’s 
good  looks,  the  elder  girl,  Penelope,  already  at  twelve 
giving  promise  of  becoming  an  exceptionally  beautiful 
woman.  The  Earl  of  Essex  hoped  to  arrange  a  marriage 
between  her  and  Philip  Sidney,  but  the  young  man  of 
twenty  thought  more  of  literary  ambitions  than  the 
vivacious  child  who  might  one  day  be  his  bride.  A  few 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  105 

years  later  he  bitterly  reproached  himself  for  his  blindness 
at  this  first  meeting  with  the  “Stella”  of  his  sonnets. 

“Not  at  first  sight,  nor  with  a  dribbled  shot, 

Love  gave  the  wound  which,  while  I  breathe,  will  bleed: 
But  known  worth  did  in  mine  of  time  proceed, 

Till,  by  degrees,  it  had  full  conquest  got. 

I  saw  and  liked;  I  liked,  but  loved  not; 

I  loved,  but  straight  did  not  what  love  decreed; 

At  length  to  love’s  decrees  I,  forced,  agreed. 

Yet  with  repining  at  so  partial  lot. 

Now,  e’en  that  footstep  of  lost  liberty 

Is  gone,  and  now,  like  slave-born  Muscovite, 

I  call  it  praise  to  suffer  tyranny; 

And  now  employ  the  remnant  of  my  wit 
To  make  myself  believe  that  all  is  well, 

While,  with  a  feeling  skill,  I  paint  my  hell.”1 

The  Maids  of  Honour  were  somewhat  aggrieved  that 
three  such  popular  young  men  as  Philip  Sidney,  Fulke 
Greville  and  Edward  Dyer  should  be  so  indifferent  to 
their  charms.  Greville,  it  is  true,  professed  himself  “a 
constant  courtier  of  the  ladies,”  but  it  was  a  detached 
interest  which  caused  the  Maids  of  Honour  to  make 
him  their  scapegoat.  He  used  to  say  merrily,  “that  he 
was  like  Robin  Goodfellow,  for  when  the  dairy-maids 
upset  the  milk-pans  or  made  a  romping  and  racket,  they 
laid  it  all  on  Robin;  so  whatever  gossip-tales  the  Queen’s 
ladies  told  her,  or  whatever  bad  turns  they  did  to  the 
courtiers,  they  laid  all  upon  him.”2 

For  auburn-haired  Philip  Sidney  the  girls  had  warmer 
sentiments;  indeed,  they  “ventured  as  far  as  modesty 

1  Astrophel  and  Stella,  Sonnet  2. 

2  Bacon’s  Apophthegms. 


io 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

would  permit  to  signify  their  affedtion  unto  him,”  and 
showed  obvious  chagrin  at  his  lack  of  response. 

“Because  I  breathe  not  love  to  every  one, 

Nor  nourish  special  lockes  of  vowed  hair, 

Nor  give  each  speech  a  full  point  of  a  groan, 

The  courtly  nymphs,  acquainted  with  the  moan 
Of  them,  who,  in  their  lips.  Love’s  standard  bear, 

‘What  he!’  say  they  to  me,  ‘now  dare  I  swear, 

He  cannot  love:  no,  no;  let  him  alone!’  ”x 

If  Philip  Sidney  preferred  books  to  ladies,  there  were 
plenty  of  courtiers  of  a  very  different  opinion,  and  the 
Maids  of  Honour  tossing  their  pretty  heads,  chose  new 
servants  because  they  waxed  merry. 

Young  married  men  looked  on  disconsolate,  and  Richard 
Brackinbury  wrote  to  prepare  the  Earl  of  Rutland  for  a 
cold  reception  on  his  next  visit  to  London. 

“When  you  come  to  the  Court  you  will  scarce  be 
known;  so  little  account  do  these  ladies  make  of  us 
married  men,  and  especially  of  those  that  be  absent  for 
‘from  new  fountains  the  water  semethe  the  sweetest.’ 
You  should  be  here  a  month  before  you  could  learn  to 
speak  to  one  and  not  offend  the  other.  Yet  there  is  one  of 
your  old  acquaintance  who  would  have  friendly  saluted 
you — my  Lady  Sandys.”2 

Eleanor  Brydges,  who  remained  in  the  privy  chamber 
after  her  sister  Catherine  married  Lord  Sands,  also 
retained  a  friendly  feeling  for  the  Earl  of  Rutland.  She 

1  Astro-phel  and  Stella,  Sonnet  LIV. 

2  Duke  of  Rutland,  MSS. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  107 

wrote  to  tell  him  of  the  commotion  caused  by  the  secret 
marriage  of  James  Scudamore  and  Mary  Shelton.  The 
Queen  in  a  passion  at  the  discovery  of  what  had  taken 
place,  “telt  liberall  bothe  with  bloes  and  yevell  words.” 
In  fa£I,  she  handled  the  frightened  little  bride  so  roughly 
that  she  broke  her  finger.  This  catastrophe  brought 
Elizabeth  to  her  senses,  and  in  contrition  she  not  only 
san&ioned  the  marriage,  but  appointed  the  new  Mrs. 
Scudamore  as  gentlewoman  of  the  bedchamber. 

The  matrimonial  prospers  of  the  Maids  of  Honour 
were  always  followed  with  interest,  and  it  was  observed 
that  Frances  Howard,  who  had  quite  discarded  Thomas 
Coningsby,  had  a  new  admirer  in  the  person  of  the  Earl  of 
Hertford.  The  faces  in  the  privy  chamber  had  changed 
since  the  Earl  of  Hertford  had  in  his  youth  courted  Lady 
Catherine  Grey  in  his  sister  Jane’s  little  sitting-room. 
Having  suffered  nine  years’  imprisonment  for  the  offence 
of  marrying  his  first  wife,  it  behoved  him  to  walk  warily 
before  making  a  second  venture,  especially  when  the  lady 
of  his  second  choice  likewise  bore  relationship  to  the 
Queen.  Frances  Howard,  who  had  flouted  so  many 
admirers,  felt  that  at  last  she  had  met  the  man  who  could 
make  her  happy,  but  as  she  happened  to  be  a  favourite 
with  Elizabeth  the  possibility  of  being  allowed  to  marry 
him  did  not  seem  very  bright.  “No  haste  is  made  about 
Lord  Hertford’s  marriage,  yet  love  increases,”  wrote 
Richard  Brackinbury  in  a  letter  which  also  conveyed 
the  intelligence  that  Lady  Mary  Vere1  was  ill  with 
jaundice,  and  that  there  was  talk  of  Mary  Sidney  marrying 
1  Sister  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford. 


108  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

the  Earl  of  Pembroke,1  though  he  himself  doubted  if 
anything  would  come  of  it. 

The  Earl  of  Leicester  was  undoubtedly  anxious  to 
arrange  such  a  marriage  for  his  niece,  and  wrote  to  her 
father  in  Ireland  on  the  matter.  Sir  Henry  Sidney  re¬ 
plied: 

“I  find  to  my  exceeding  great  comfort,  the  likelihood 
of  a  marriage  between  my  lord  of  Pembroke  and  my 
daughter,  which  great  honour  to  me,  my  means  lineage 
and  kin,  I  attribute  to  my  match  in  your  noble  house, 
and  serve  the  same  to  the  uttermost  of  my  power:  yea, 
so  joyfully  have  I  at  heart  that  my  dear  child  hath  so 
happy  an  advancement  as  this  is,  as,  in  troth,  I  would  lie 
a  year  in  close  prison  rather  than  it  should  break.  But, 
alas!  my  dearest  Lord,  mine  estate  is  not  unknown  to 
your  lordship,  which  wanteth  much  to  make  me  equal 
that  which  I  know  my  Lord  of  Pembroke  may  have.  Two 
thousand  pounds,  I  confess,  I  have  bequeathed  her,  which 
your  lordship  knoweth  I  might  better  spare  her  when  I 
were  dead  than  one  thousand  living;  and  in  troth,  my 
Lord,  I  have  it  not,  but  borrow  it  I  must,  and  so  I  will. 
And  if  your  lordship  will  get  me  leave  that  I  may  feast 
my  eyes  with  that  joyful  sight  of  their  coupling,  I  will 
give  her  a  cup  worth  five  hundred  pounds.  Good  my 
Lord,  bear  with  my  poverty;  for  if  I  had  it,  little  would 
I  regard  any  sum  of  money,  but  willingly  give  it,  protest¬ 
ing  before  Almighty  God  that  if  He  and  all  the  powers 
on  earth  would  give  me  choice  of  a  husband  for  her,  I 
would  choose  the  Earl  of  Pembroke.  I  write  to  my  Lord 
of  Pembroke,  which  herewith  I  send  your  Lordship;  and 

1  Henry  Herbert  repudiated  his  marriage  with  Lady  Catherine 
Grey  and  married  Catherine,  d.  of  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  She  died 

I575* 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  109 

thus  I  end,  in  answering  your  most  welcome  and  honour¬ 
able  letter;  with  my  hearty  prayer  to  Almighty  God  to 
perfect  your  lordship’s  good  work,  and  requite  you  for  the 
same;  for  I  am  not  able.”1 

A  month  or  two  later  the  wedding  took  place,  and 
Mary  accompanied  her  husband  to  his  beautiful  home  at 
Wilton,  in  Wiltshire. 

1  Sydney  Papers,  Vol.  I. 


CHAPTER  XII 


ONE  broiling  hot  day  towards  the  end  of  July, 
1578,  the  Court  left  London  for  a  progress  into 
Suffolk,  the  main  objedtive  being  to  pay  a  visit 
to  Sir  William  Cordell,  Master  of  the  Rolls,  at  his  fine 
new  house  at  Long  Melford. 

Forward  went  the  green-clad  harbingers;  the  yeomen 
of  the  guard  in  new  red  coats  with  the  Tudor  rose 
blazoned  on  their  backs;  gentlemen  pensioners  carrying 
their  gilt  battle-axes;  noblemen  and  courtiers,  richly 
dressed,  riding  according  to  their  degrees,  and  followed 
by  serving-men  wearing  their  master’s  badge  in  silver  on 
their  left  arms. 

Elizabeth  more  from  pride  than  inclination  rode  in  her 
coach,  lavish  with  paint  and  gold,  adorned  with  ostrich 
feathers,  upholstered  grandly,  studded  by  gilt  nails;  of 
magnificent  appearance,  but  extreme  discomfort. 

Owing  to  the  badness  of  the  roads,  the  coach  not 
infrequently  stuck  in  deep  ruts  or  holes.  In  the  worst 
places  serving-men  supported  it  on  either  side  with  their 
shoulders,  as  the  only  means  by  which  the  right  royal 
vehicle  could  be  made  to  retain  its  equilibrium. 

The  Maids  of  Honour,  who  were  not  yet  allowed  the 
privilege  of  being  shaken  in  a  coach,  trotted  along  on  their 
saddle  horses.  Behind  came  a  seemingly  endless  line  of 
riders,  terminating  in  two  or  three  hundred  luggage 
carts,  toiling  painfully  along  in  clouds  of  dust. 

All  other  travellers  “gave  the  road”  to  the  royal  party, 
whether  the  long  covered  waggons  of  the  carriers,  strings 

1 10 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  iii 

of  pack  horses  laden  with  merchandise,  country  gentle¬ 
men,  or  troupes  of  actors  with  their  property  carts. 

News  of  the  Queen’s  coming  caused  the  road  to  be 
unusually  populated  with  rogues  and  vagabonds  who 
assembled  in  hopes  of  picking  up  an  honest  or  dishonest 
penny.  Vagrants  in  variety  roamed  the  country-side,  beg¬ 
ging  or  stealing  when  or  how  they  could.  If  caught, 
the  penalty  for  a  first  offence  was  branding  through  the 
right  ear  with  a  hot  iron.  A  second  convidfion  entailed 
like  treatment  of  the  left;  a  third  meant  death.  Of  all 
denominations  were  they:  fortune-tellers,  bear-wards, 
rufflers,  upright  men,  Hookers  and  Anglers,  Priggers, 
fresh-water  mariners,  who  had  never  seen  the  sea. 
Wildest  looking  of  all  was  an  Abraham  man,  a  half¬ 
witted,  scantily  clad  creature,  one  “that  walketh  bare 
armed,  and  bare  legged,  and  fayneth  hym  selfe  mad,  and 
caryeth  a  packe  of  wool,  or  a  stycke  with  baken  on  it,  or 
such  lyke  toy,  and  nameth  himselfe  poore  Tom.”1 

On  village  commons,  where  fly-tormented  beeves 
sought  shelter  under  the  trees,  and  the  braying  of  a  stray 
donkey  in  the  pound  spread  consternation  among  hun¬ 
dreds  of  Court  horses,  Elizabeth  halted  her  coach.  Seated 
in  state,  the  leathern  curtains  drawn  back,  she  spoke  with 
the  villagers  who  crowded  round  the  Queen  they  loved  so 
well.  She  learnt  of  their  desires  or  hardships,  received 
petitions,  heard  grievances,  for  during  progresses  the 
humblest  subjedt  might  approach  and  state  his  case  with¬ 
out  let  or  hindrance,  in  simple  faith  that  “Good  Queen 
Bess”  would  put  things  right. 

1  Fhe  Fraternity e  of  V agabonds,  John  Audley,  1575. 


1 12  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Whilst  Elizabeth  dispensed  justice,  the  Maids  of 
Honour  were  importuned  by  ballad  singers,  entreating 
them  to  give  ear  to  a  very  passionate  and  beautiful  ballad 
of  “A  Lover  extolling  his  lady.”  Or  they  might  have 
their  choice  of  “A  merry  Ballad  of  how  a  wife  entreated 
her  husband  to  have  her  own  Will”;  “A  ballad  of  a 
priest  that  lost  his  nose,  For  saying  of  mass  as  I  suppose,” 
The  Lady  Greensleeves,  or  “The  lamentable  ditty  of 
The  Babes  in  the  Wood.” 

When  ballad  singers  ceased  from  troubling,  the  travel¬ 
ling  pedlars  displayed  the  contents  of  their  packs. 

“Lawn  as  white  as  driven  snow; 

Cyprus  black  as  e’er  was  crow  ; 

Gloves  as  sweet  as  damask  roses. 

Masks  for  faces  and  for  noses; 

Bugle-bracelets,  necklace-amber, 

Perfume  for  a  lady’s  chamber; 

Golden  quoifs  and  stomachers, 

For  my  lads  to  give  their  dears; 

Pins  and  poking-sticks  of  steel; 

What  maids  lack  from  head  to  heel: 

Come  buy  of  me,  come  buy,  come  buy.”1 

On  again;  over  lonely  heaths  where  the  remains  of 
highwaymen  clanked  in  chains;  across  waste  land,  scaring 
white-tailed  conies  who  scudded  for  safety  under  yellow 
gorse  bushes;  skirting  marshlands  where  lonely  herons 
kept  vigil  among  the  rushes;  through  the  deep  silence  of 
vast  woodlands  where  shrill- voiced  jays  heralded  the  in¬ 
trusion  of  their  solitude. 

In  leafy  dells,  where  the  sun  slanted  through  the  tree- 

1  The  Winter's  Tale,  IV,  3. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  113 

tops,  the  travellers  halted  to  picnic.  The  Queen  and  her 
ladies  couched  themselves  among  the  bracken  fronds, 
watching  the  squirrels  who  scudded  along  the  branches, 
and  using  their  long  plumed  fans  to  defend  themselves 
from  myriads  of  flies,  whilst  the  serving-men  unpacked 
provision  baskets. 

The  thirsty  ladies  appreciated  their  draughts  of  cool 
nut-brown  beer,  however  much  individual  tastes  differed 
as  to  the  merits  of  the  varieties  known  as  Huff-cap, 
Angels-food,  or  Dragon’s  milk.  “Though  for  quaffing  as  it 
was  unfitting  her  sex,  so  she  extreamely  abhord  it,”1  still 
when  thirsty,  Elizabeth  desired  a  full  tankard. 

One  never-to-be-forgotten  progress  there  was  trouble 
over  the  beer;  of  the  resulting  effedf  on  the  Queen 
Majesty’s  temper  Leicester  wrote  to  Lord  Burleigh: 

“God  be  thanked,  she  is  very  merry.  But  at  her  first 
coming,  being  a  marvelous  hott  day  at  her  coming  hither, 
not  one  drop  of  good  drink  for  her,  so  ill  was  she  proyded 
for,  not  with  standing  her  oft  telling  of  her  comyng 
hither;  but  we  were  fain  to  send  to  London  with  bottells, 
to  Kenelworth,  to  divers  other  places  where  ale  was.  Her 
own  here  was  such  as  there  was  no  man  able  to  drink  it; 
it  had  been  as  good  to  have  drunk  malmsey;  and  yet  was 
it  laid  in  about  three  days  before  her  majesty  came.  It 
did  put  her  very  farr  out  of  temper,  and  almost  all  the 
company  besides  so;  for  none  of  us  all  was  able  to  drink 
either  bere  or  ale  here.  Synce  by  chance  we  have  found 
drink  for  her  to  her  lyking  she  is  wrell  agayn;  but  I  feared 
greatly  two  or  three  days,  some  sickness  to  have  fallen  by 
reason  of  this  drynk.”2 

1  England’s  Mourning  Garment,  Henry  Chettle. 

2  Wright’s  Queen  Elizabeth. 

1 


1 14  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

On  the  borders  of  Suffolk  awaited  the  Sheriff,  Sir 
William  Spring,  accompanied  by  “two  hundred  young 
gentlemen  clad,  all  in  white  velvet,  and  three  hundred  of 
the  graver  sort  apparelled  in  black  velvet  coats  and  fair 
chains,  all  ready  at  one  instant  and  place,  with  fifteen 
hundred  serving  men  more  on  horseback,  well  and  bravely 
mounted  in  good  order,  ready  to  receive  the  Queenes 
Highness  into  Suffolk,  which  surely  was  a  comely  troupe, 
and  a  noble  sight  to  behold.”1 

Merrily  chimed  the  bells  from  the  old  grey  church  on 
the  hill  as  the  Queen  entered  the  decorated  village  of 
Long  Melford.  Husbandmen  left  their  oxen,  goodwives 
their  wash-tubs,  children  their  play,  to  watch  the  Queen’s 
dust-covered  coach  as  it  rumbled  past  the  village  and 
splashed  through  the  ford.  The  six  foam-flecked  horses  put 
their  necks  into  their  collars,  to  pull  the  heavy  vehicle  up 
the  last  bit  of  hill,  before  they  turned  in  under  the  gate¬ 
house,  over  the  moat,  and  into  the  courtyard  where  Lady 
Cordell  awaited  her  illustrious  visitor. 

Weary  Maids  of  Honour  slipped  thankfully  from  their 
saddles,  and  made  their  way  to  the  room  at  the  top  of  the 
house  which  had  been  allotted  for  their  dormitory.  Re¬ 
moving  sticky  riding  masks,  they  cooled  their  hot  cheeks 
in  bowls  of  clear  spring  water,  brushed  the  dust  from 
their  hair  and  exchanged  heavy  travelling  clothes  for  crisp 
fresh  dresses. 

When  the  Queen  had  rested,  Sir  Wdlliam  Cordell 
escorted  her  to  the  turreted  banqueting  house  overlooking 
the  bowling  green,  where  several  courtiers  had  already 
1  Thomas  Churchyard’s  Tract. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  i  i 5 

started  their  favourite  game.  The  Maids  of  Honour,  not 
in  attendance  for  the  moment,  strolled  round  the  lovely 
garden  where  apricots  ripened  on  the  sunny  walls.  Reach¬ 
ing  the  fishponds,  whose  cool,  still  depths  reflected  the 
capped  towers  of  the  hall,  they  sat  on  the  grassy  banks  to 
rest  and  talk.  Ever  and  anon  fish  jumped  for  their  evening 
meal;  shy  water  hens  dived  at  the  sound  of  human 
laughter;  rooks  circled  overhead  leaving  the  rookery  for 
their  evening  flight.  From  the  park  came  the  thud  of 
hammers  as  tents  were  erected,  mingling  with  the  hissing 
of  grooms  as  they  rubbed  down  the  tired  horses  in  the 
stable  yard. 

Veritable  Queen’s  weather  it  proved  during  those  early 
August  days,  when  the  Suffolk  gentry  “made  such  tri¬ 
umphs  and  devices  as  indeed  was  most  noble  to  behold  and 
very  thankfully  accepted.”  Day  after  day  the  royal  party 
rode  single  file  down  narrow  country  lanes,  where  black¬ 
berries  hung  in  clusters,  to  pay  visits  to  one  country  house 
after  another. 

The  most  enjoyable  outing  for  the  Maids  of  Honour 
was  to  their  old  friend  Elizabeth  Stafford,  now  the  wife  of 
Sir  William  Drury.  At  her  home  at  Hawsted  House 
Elizabeth  welcomed  her  mistress  and  many  friends  of  her 
girlhood  days.  On  the  terrace  overlooking  the  moat  the 
visitors  sat  and  talked,  or  tried  to  make  friends  with  Lady 
Drury’s  four  stiff-dressed,  bonny  children. 

Sir  William  had  planted  the  banks  of  the  moat  with 
yews  and  variegated  holly,  and  the  Queen,  being  called  on 
to  admire  this  innovation,  had  the  misfortune  to  drop  her 
silver-handled  fan  into  the  water,  from  whence  it  could 


ii 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

not  be  recovered.  Lady  Drury  and  the  ladies  joined  in  a 
chorus  of  dismay,  but  the  Queen  good-humouredly  re¬ 
fused  to  let  the  loss  of  a  mere  fan  mar  the  pleasure  of 
her  visit,  and  graciously  accepted  one  of  the  many  sub¬ 
stitutes  offered  for  her  acceptance. 

Lady  Drury,  who  had  always  been  a  favourite  with  the 
Queen,  retained  a  high  place  in  her  regard,  and  when  Sir 
William  Drury1  died  a  few  years  later  she  wrote  her  for¬ 
mer  Maid  of  Honour  a  letter  of  sympathy  : 

“Bee  well  ware,  my  Bess,  you  strive  not  with  divine 
ordinance,  nor  grudge  at  irremediable  harmes,  leste  you 
offend  the  highest  Lorde,  and  no  whitte  amend  ye 
married  hap.  Heape  not  your  harmes  where  helpe  ther  is 
none;  but  since  you  may  not  that  you  would,  wish  that 
you  can  enjoye  with  comfort,  a  king  for  his  power,  and  a 
Queene  for  her  love,  who  leves  not  now  to  protefte  you 
when  your  case  requires  care,  and  minds  not  to  omitte 
whatever  may  be  best  for  you  and  yours. 

Your  most  loving  careful  sovraigne.”2 

The  French  envoys  sent  to  further  the  marriage  nego¬ 
tiations  between  Elizabeth  and  the  Duke  d’  Alengon,  not 
finding  the  Queen  at  Whitehall,  came  on  to  Melford. 
Elizabeth  received  them  graciously,  and  proffered  an  in¬ 
vitation  to  dinner,  an  adl  of  hospitality  they  readily  ac¬ 
cepted. 

Sir  William  Cordell’s  cooks  rose  to  the  occasion  and  pre¬ 
pared  an  elaborate  banquet,  whilst  waiters  laid  the  tables 

1  Sir  William  Drury  killed  in  a  duel  caused  by  a  quarrel  about 
precedency,  1589.  Lady  Drury  married,  2ndly,  Sir  John  Scott. 

2  Nichols’  Progresses ,  Vol.  II. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  i  i 7 

and  sideboards  with  gilt  bowls,  silver  tankards,  ornamental 
salts,  crystal  and  silver  glasses,  and  the  rest  of  the  Court 
plate. 

Elizabeth  entered  the  room  during  the  meal;  but, 
though  her  bearing  to  the  guests  was  all  affability,  the 
ladies  in  attendance  guessed  that  something  had  occurred 
to  displease  her.  Once  out  of  hearing  of  the  French  en¬ 
voys,  the  Queen  flew  into  a  rage  because  the  sideboards 
had  not  contained  a  sufficient  display  of  plate  to  impress 
the  royal  visitors.  Having  discovered  the  cause,  the  ladies 
lost  no  time  in  sending  for  the  Earl  of  Sussex,  who  as  the 
Lord  Steward  was  the  rightful  objedf  for  their  mistress’s 
wrath. 

He  received  it  at  full  blast;  Elizabeth  furiously  up¬ 
braiding  him  for  not  having  brought  sufficiency  of  gold 
and  silver  vessels,  so  that,  wheresoever  the  Queen  of 
England  might  be,  all  foreigners  should  be  reduced  to  a 
suitable  state  of  envy  and  despair  at  her  magnificence. 

The  Earl  of  Sussex,  not  to  be  browbeaten,  replied  that, 
though  he  had  accompanied  English  sovereigns  on  their 
progresses  for  many  years,  not  even  her  father,  King 
Henry  VIII,  had  carried  so  much  plate  as  she  did  at 
present. 

Elizabeth,  who  resented  excuses  adequate  or  otherwise, 
told  the  Lord  Steward  “that  he  was  a  great  rogue,  and 
that  the  more  good  that  was  done  to  people  like  him  the 
worse  they  got.”1  Turning  to  Lord  North,  she  asked  him 
if  he  considered  the  sideboards  contained  much  or  little 
plate. 


1  Calendar  of  State  Papers ,  Spanish. 


1 1 8  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Lord  North  disparaged  the  plate,  and  whilst  the  Queen 
continued  her  tirade  the  two  nobles  glared  at  each  other, 
and  their  thoughts  had  none  of  the  Christian  virtues. 

Outside  the  presence  chamber  their  pent-up  feelings 
burst  forth.  Sussex  told  Lord  North  “he  had  spoken 
wrongly  and  falsely  in  what  he  said  to  the  Queen,  where¬ 
upon  North  replied  that  if  he,  Sussex,  did  not  belong  to 
the  Council  he  would  prove  what  he  said  to  his  teeth. 
Sussex  then  went  to  Leicester  and  complained  of  the 
knavish  behaviour  of  North,  but  Leicester  told  him  that 
the  words  he  used  should  not  be  applied  to  such  persons 
as  North.  Sussex  answered  that,  whatever  he  might  think 
of  the  words,  North  was  a  great  knave,  so  they  remained 
offended  with  one  another  as  they  had  been  before  on 
other  matters.”1 

Quickly  the  quarrel  spread;  the  Earl  of  Oxford  re¬ 
ceiving  a  message  from  the  Queen  asking  him  to  dance 
before  the  visitors,  said  flatly  that  he  did  not  wish  to  enter¬ 
tain  Frenchmen.  This  being  softened  in  transmission  to 
Elizabeth,  caused  her  to  repeat  the  request,  when  the 
Earl  flung  himself  out  of  the  room  in  a  temper  declaring 
he  was  not  going  to  do  anything  that  would  give  pleasure 
to  Frenchmen. 

Eventually  some  sort  of  reconciliation  was  patched  up 
for  the  remainder  of  the  progress,  but  Elizabeth  deter¬ 
mined  that  sooner  or  later  Alengon’s  envoys  should  be 
properly  impressed,  and  on  the  Court’s  return  to  London 
in  September  she  immediately  arranged  a  round  of  festivi¬ 
ties. 


1  Calendar  of  State  Papers ,  Spanish. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE  Maids  of  Honour  on  looking  out  of  their 
dormitory  window  one  morning,  found  that  the 
ice  Queen  had  waved  her  wand  during  the  night, 
transforming  the  palace  garden  at  Richmond  into  an  en¬ 
chanted  Fairyland.  Trees  and  shrubs  alike  bent  under 
their  glistening  coating;  smoothly  white  were  the  lawns 
running  down  to  the  river,  which  flowed  greyly  between 
its  snow-clad  banks. 

Softly,  silently,  fell  the  snowflakes,  dulling  sound  and 
blotting  out  the  landscape.  Visitors  who  managed  to  get 
down  from  London  reported  that  snow  lay  two  feet  deep 
in  the  city;  whilst  deplorable  accounts  were  received 
daily  from  the  country  of  loss  of  life  to  both  man  and 
beast  from  the  snow-drifts. 

Within  doors  the  ladies  amused  themselves  as  best  they 
could.  They  arranged  vigorous  matches  of  battledore  and 
shuttlecock;  tried  their  skill  at  trolling  the  ball  in  “Troll- 
madam,”1  or  the  ever  popular  slide-thrift. 

In  the  evenings  were  various  entertainments  which 
taxed  the  resources  of  Edward  Tilney,  Master  of  the 
Revels,  who  had  to  provide  all  stage  properties.  These  re¬ 
ceived  such  hard  usage  that  they  required  constant 
“Ayring,  Repayring,  spungyng,  wyping,  brushing,  sort¬ 
ing,  suting,  (and)  putting  in  order.”2 

1  Played  on  a  board  with  eleven  holes  at  the  end.  Aut :  A 
fellow,  sir,  that  I  have  known  to  go  about  with  troll-mydames. — 
The  Winter's  A  ale,  IV,  2. 

2  Documents  relating  to  the  Office  of  Revels,  A.  Feuillerat. 

119 


120  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

The  Master  of  the  Revels  needed  to  be  a  man  of  re¬ 
source,  for  the  actors  were  frequently  exacting  in  the 
nature  of  their  demands.  One  company  sent  in  a  request 
for  “Hobby  horses,  wheat  sheaves,  bodies  of  men  in 
timber,  dishes  for  devil’s  eyes,  devices  for  hell,  the  hell- 
mouth.”  Another  set  of  players  could  not  perform  with¬ 
out  a  vizard  for  an  ape’s  face;  also  a  monster;  seven 
dozen  imitation  eggs,  sham  whiting,  mackerel,  flounders 
and  snowballs.  The  Earl  of  Leicester’s  company  proved 
insistent  for  a  vizard  with  a  black  beard;  one  similar  with 
a  red  beard,  and  sufficient  fir  poles  to  represent  a  forest. 
Others  clamoured  for  a  device  for  counterfeiting  Thunder 
and  Lightning,  a  country-house,  a  city,  a  live  fox  and  a 
wax  cake. 

When  properties  were  not  in  stock  they  had  to  be  made, 
and  the  Earl  of  Warwick’s  actors  being  about  to  present 
“The  history  of  the  Burnyng  Rock,”  were  particular  that 
the  rock  should  be  adequately  represented.  The  Master  of 
Revels,  wishful  to  please,  borrowed  a  cloud  for  the  pur¬ 
pose;  thereafter  trouble  and  expense  fell  heavily  upon 
him. 

Painters  set  to  work  to  transform  the  cloud  into  a  rock, 
but  the  paint  refused  to  dry,  so  fires  had  to  be  kept  burn¬ 
ing  day  and  night.  As  it  still  partook  more  of  a  cloud  than 
rock  in  appearance,  a  load  of  ivy  was  sent  for,  to  cover  its 
obvious  deficiencies.  Then  aqua-vitae  being  burnt  on  the 
rock,  twelvepence  had  to  be  expended  in  order  “to  alay 
the  smell  thereof.” 

The  next  performers  raised  trouble  over  the  damage:1 
cloud,  so  Edward  Tilney  had  to  get  “a  hoope  and  blewe 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  121 

lynnen  cloth  to  mend  the  cloude  that  was  borowed 
and  cut  to  serve  the  rock  in  the  plaie  of  the  burning 
knight.”1 

Often  there  arose  difficulty  in  recovering  the  proper¬ 
ties,  much  bitterness  arising  over  six  silver  horns  “which 
horns  the  maskers  detayned  and  yet  doth  keep  them 
against  the  will  of  the  officers.” 

During  the  New  Year  festivities,  especially  elaborate  in 
honour  of  the  French  envoys,  the  Maids  of  Honour  and 
their  special  friends  among  the  courtiers  arranged  a  double 
masque  of  Amazons  and  Knights.  The  girls  wore  helmets, 
yellow  buskins  and  suits  of  silver-gilt  armour,  over  lawn 
and  crimson  velvet  skirts.  They  carried  javelins  and 
shields,  the  latter  causing  much  amusement,  as,  following 
the  fashion  at  tournaments,  each  lady  bore  a  device  and 
motto  of  her  own  choosing. 

The  knights  appeared  in  burnished  armour  and  plumed 
helmets.  They  carried  truncheons,  and  like  the  Amazons 
shields  with  “a  poesy  written  on  every  one  of  them.” 
The  masque  ended  in  a  miniature  fight  at  barriers,  the 
ladies  being  adjudged  victors. 

Alenin  heard  such  accounts  of  Elizabeth’s  wealth 
from  the  much  feted  envoys,  that  he  became  more  and 
more  anxious  to  secure  her  for  his  bride.  T,'or  the  further¬ 
ance  of  his  suit,  he  sent  over  Monsieur  Simier,  “a  man 
of  wit  and  parts,  and  one  thoroughly  versed  in  love- 
fancies,  pleasant  conceits,  and  other  gr.llantries.”2 

The  witty,  vivacious  Frenchman  soon  found  his  way 

1  Documents  of  the  Revels’  Office,  P.  Cunningham. 

2  Camden’s  Annales. 


122  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

into  the  Queen’s  good  graces,  and  she  lavished  such 
flattering  attentions  upon  him  that  for  once  the  incensed 
favourites  made  common  cause  together.  Being  quite 
unable  to  see  the  attractions  of  Monsieur  Simier,  who 
bowed  so  gracefully  as  he  kissed  the  Queen’s  finger-tips, 
they  unanimously  attributed  his  success  to  witchcraft. 
By  the  unholy  possession  of  love  philtres  he  had  charmed 
Elizabeth’s  affeftions  away  from  them — the  rightful 
objects  for  her  favours. 

The  Earl  of  Leicester,  in  particular,  showed  such  open 
enmity  to  the  visitor  that,  when  Monsieur  Simier’s  spies 
apprised  him  of  the  fa£l  that  my  Lord  was  secretly 
married  to  the  widowed  Countess  of  Essex1  he  used  the 
information  to  put  him  out  of  Court  by  telling  the 
Queen. 

Elizabeth,  in  her  anger  at  the  news,  ordered  the  Earl  to 
be  confined  at  a  fort  in  Greenwich  Park,  and  would  have 
sent  him  to  the  Tower  had  not  the  Earl  of  Sussex,  his 
lifelong  enemy,  once  again  intervened  to  pacify  the 
Queen,  “being  of  opinion  that  no  man  was  to  be  troubled 
for  lawful  marriage,  which  amongst  all  men  had  ever  been 
held  in  honour  and  esteem.”2 

Leicester  regained  his  freedom,  and  a  partial  return  to 
favour,  but  towards  her  former  friend,  Lettice  Knollys, 
Elizabeth  remained  implacable.  The  new  Countess  of 
Leicester  certainly  did  not  demean  herself  in  a  manner 
likely  to  soothe  the  feelings  of  her  injured  cousin* 

1  On  hearing  of  Leicester’s  marriage,  Lady  Sheffield  married 
Sir  Edward  Stafford,  of  Grafton,  brother  of  Lady  Drury  (Eliza¬ 
beth  Stafford).  2  Camden. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  123 

Instead,  her  marriage  being  openly  acknowledged,  she  did 
all  in  her  power  to  demonstrate  that  Lettice,  Countess  of 
Leicester,  was  every  whit  as  great  a  personage  as  Elizabeth, 
Queen  of  England.  She  came  to  Whitehall  in  dresses 
whose  magnificence  exceeded  those  of  the  Queen’s 
Majesty.  Elizabeth  expressed  displeasure,  but  my  Lady 
of  Leicester  paid  no  heed.  Elizabeth,  goaded  beyond 
endurance,  soundly  boxed  the  Countess  of  Leicester’s 
ears,  at  the  same  time  declaring  that  as  but  one  sun 
lighted  the  earth,  so  there  should  be  but  one  at  the 
Court,  which  henceforward  would  be  closed  to  the 
Countess  of  Leicester. 

Lettice  departed  unrepentant,  and  the  next  news 
the  Queen  had  of  her  was  to  the  effedl  that  she  drove 
about  London  in  a  magnificent  coach  drawn  by  four  milk- 
white  horses.  Footmen  in  black  velvet  escorted  the  equip¬ 
age,  and  behind  came  other  coaches  filled  with  ladies  and 
pages,  so  that  the  inhabitants  of  Cheapside  cranned  their 
necks  out  of  their  gabled  houses,  supposing  some  great 
princess  to  be  passing  by. 

Further,  when  the  Earl  of  Leicester  went  abroad  to  the 
Netherlands  in  1586: 

“It  was  told  her  majesty,  that  my  lady  was  prepared 
presently  to  come  over  to  your  excellency,  with  such  a 
train  of  ladies,  gentlewomen,  and  such  rich  coaches, 
litters,  and  side-saddles,  as  her  Majesty  had  none  such, 
and  that  there  should  be  such  a  court  of  ladies  as  should 
far  pass  her  majesty’s  Court  here.  This  information, 
though  most  false,  did  not  a  little  stir  her  majesty,  to 
extreme  choler  and  dislike  of  all  your  doings  there,  saying, 
with  great  oaths,  she  would  have  no  more  courts  under 


124  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

her  obeisance  but  her  own,  and  would  revoke  you  from 
thence  with  all  speed.”1 

Monsieur  Simier  took  the  opportunity  of  Leicester’s 
disgrace  to  press  for  a  favourable  reply  to  Alengon’s  suit. 
Elizabeth,  though  now  more  inclined  to  listen,  still 
refused  to  commit  herself  definitely  without  seeing  the 
prince  in  person. 

Party  feeling  at  Court  ran  high;  the  Earl  of  Oxford 
supported  the  French  match;  Philip  Sidney  and  his 
friends  vigorously  opposed  it  on  the  score  of  unsuitability 
in  age  and  religion.  The  younger  courtiers  gave  whole¬ 
hearted  support  to  the  latter  party,  for  they  had  grown 
accustomed  to  the  romantic  attitude  of  avowed  wor¬ 
shippers  of  a  Virgin  princess,  and  they  very  much 
resented  the  idea  of  a  foreign  prince  intruding  on  their 
domain. 

Despite  the  two  fadtions,  on  the  surface  at  any  rate 
the  gay  life  at  Court  appeared  undisturbed.  In  honour  of 
the  French  envoys  there  were  even  more  festivities 
than  usual,  and  all  the  big  town  houses  were  filled  with 
ladies  anxious  to  obtain  invitations  to  the  Court  fundfions. 

The  Countess  of  Leicester,  still  forbidden  the  Court, 
might  not  take  her  rightful  place  as  one  of  the  London 
hostesses,  but  her  two  girls,  Penelope  and  Dorothy 
Devereux,  were  not  barred  by  their  mother’s  disgrace,  and 
could  always  be  sure  of  a  warm  welcome  from  the  Queen. 
Penelope  had  fulfilled  the  promise  of  her  childhood,  and 
grown  into  a  lovely  girl,  the  admiration  of  Mr.  Philip 
Sidney,  who  regarded  her  as  his  destined  bride.  Calling 

1  Leicester’s  Correspondence. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  125 

her  “Stella”  and  himself  Astrophel,  he  wrote  sonnets  in 
her  praise,  which  were  circulated  in  manuscript  about  the 
Court,  causing  Penelope  to  be  envied  by  all  the  other  girls. 

“  To  her  he  vow’d  the  service  of  his  days;1 

On  her  he  spent  the  riches  of  his  wit; 

For  her  he  made  hymns  of  immortal  praise; 

Of  only  her  he  sung,  he  thought,  he  writ. 

Her  and  but  her,  of  love  he  worthy  deemed; 

For  all  the  rest  but  little  he  estemed.” 

At  a  tournament,  when  Sidney  carried  off  the  prize,  he 
attributed  his  success  to  the  faCt  that  “Stella”  had  been 
among  the  onlookers  in  the  gallery: 

“  Having  this  day  my  horse,  my  hand,  my  lance, 

Guided  so  well  that  I  obtained  the  prize, 

Both  by  the  judgment  of  the  English  eyes 
And  of  some  sent  from  that  sweet  enemy  France, 
Horsemen,  my  skill  in  horsemanship  advance, 

Townsfolk  my  strength;  a  daintier  judge  applies 
His  praise  to  sleight,  which  from  good  use  doth  rise; 

Some  lucky  wits  impute  it  but  to  chance; 

Others,  because  of  both  sides  I  do  take 
My  blood  from  them  who  did  excel  in  this, 

Think  nature  me  a  man  of  arms  did  make. 

How  far  they  shoot  awry!  the  true  cause  is, 

Stella  looked  on,  and  from  her  heavenly  face 
Sent  forth  the  beams  which  made  so  fair  my  race.”2 

Sidney’s  dislike  of  the  French  match  eventually  broke 
out  into  an  open  quarrel  on  the  tennis-court  with  the 
Earl  of  Oxford,  who  favoured  the  proposed  marriage. 
The  galleries  were  filled  with  spectators  watching  a  game 
between  Philip  and  his  friends,  when  the  Earl  of  Oxford 

1  Spenser,  Astrophel,  II,  61-66. 

2  Astrophel  and  Stella ,  Sonnet  XLI. 


126  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

entered,  and  demanded  the  use  of  the  Court.  Sidney 
refused.  The  Earl  of  Oxford  called  him  a  puppy;  Philip 
indignantly  denied  canine  parentage;  “in  which  progress 
of  heat,  as  the  tempest  grew  more  and  more  vehement 
within,  so  did  their  hearts  breath  out  their  perturbations 
in  a  more  loud  and  shrill  accent.”1 

Elizabeth,  hearing  of  the  quarrel,  endeavoured  to  make 
Philip,  as  the  lesser  in  rank,  apologize.  This  he  refused 
to  do;  further,  he  got  deeper  into  disgrace  by  writing  a 
letter  to  the  Queen  plainly  setting  forth  arguments 
against  the  French  match. 

Philip,  wearied  at  the  constraints  of  Court  life,  and 
longing  to  utilize  his  brains  and  manhood  in  useful  work, 
took  the  opportunity  of  the  Queen’s  disfavour  to  obtain 
leave  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  sister,  Mary,  at  Wilton.  Once 
more  the  two  studied  together  as  in  the  days  of  their  happy 
childhood,  and  jointly  translated  The  Psalms  of  David. 

At  Mary’s  wish  Philip  commenced  The  Countess  of 
Pembroke’s  Arcadia.  “You  desired  me  to  do  it,  and  your 
desire  to  my  heart  is  an  absolute  commandment,”  he 
wrote  in  the  dedication,  offering  the  book  to  her,  his 
“most  dear,  and  most  worthy  to  be  most  dear  Lady.” 
Of  its  writing,  “your  own  dear  self  can  best  witness  the 
manner,  being  done  in  loose  sheets  of  paper,  most  of  it 
in  your  presence,  the  rest  by  sheets  sent  unto  you  as  fast 
as  they  were  done.”  j 

During  Sidney’s  absence  from  Court,  Penelope 
Devereux’s  guardian,  the  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  arranged  a 
marriage  for  her  with  a  wealthy  suitor,  Lord  Rich,  son 
of  the  late  Lord  Chancellor.  Penelope’s  wishes  were  con- 

1  Fulke  Greville’s  Life  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  127 

sidered  of  no  moment,  and  the  Queen  having  given  her 
consent  the  marriage  was  hastily  concluded,  despite  the 
pathetic  protests  of  the  bride,  who  had  the  heartiest 
dislike  of  the  man  destined  to  be  her  husband. 

Philip  at  Wilton  heard  the  news  with  dismay,  expressing 
his  bitterness  in  a  sonnet  punning  on  the  bridegroom’s 
name. 

“Rich  fools  there  be,  whose  base  and  filthy  heart 
Lies  hatching  still  the  goods  wherein  they  flow, 

And,  damning  their  own  selves  to  Tantal’s  smart, 
(Wealth  breeding  want),  more  blest,  more  wretched  grow; 

Yet  to  those  fools  Heaven  doth  such  wit  impart, 

As  what  their  hands  do  hold,  their  heads  do  know; 

And  knowing,  love,  and  loving,  lay  apart 
As  sacred  things,  far  from  all  danger’s  show. 

But  that  Rich  fool  who,  by  blind  Fortune’s  lot, 

The  richest  gem  of  love  and  life  enjoys, 

And  can  with  foul  abuse  such  beauties  blot; 

Let  him — deprived  of  sweet  but  unfelt  joys, 

Exiled  for  aye  from  those  high  treasures  which 
He  knows  not — grow  in  only  folly  Rich.” 

Philip  Sidney  returned  to  Court  with  a  halo  of  blighted 
affedfion,  which  made  him  more  interesting  than  ever 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Maids  of  Honour.  But  though  “full 
many  maidens  often  did  him  woo,”  Philip  gave  them  no 
encouragement.  As  Lady  Rich  came  constantly  to  Court 
Philip’s  love  for  her  intensified,  and  he  continued  to  write 
sonnets  commemorative  of  his  love  and  despair.  No  other 
woman  could  awake  in  him  the  rapture  of  love  as  “Stella” 
had  done,  but  during  Philip’s  visits  to  his  friend,  Sir 
Francis  Walsingham,  there  gradually  grew  up  a  “joyful 
love  and  great  liking”  betwixt  him  and  his  host’s  young 
daughter  Frances,  which  ultimately  ended  in  marriage. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


AS  Elizabeth  flatly  refused  to  become  engaged  to 
a  prince  she  had  not  seen,  there  seemed  every 
reason  to  anticipate  that  negotiations  for  the 
French  match  would  continue  for  a  pleasantly  indefinite 
period,  wholly  to  the  liking  of  Elizabeth  and  Monsieur 
Simier.  Not  so  to  Alengon,  Duke  of  Anjou,  since  the  death 
of  his  elder  brother,  who  at  length  lost  patience,  and 
determined  to  hazard  all  on  a  secret  visit  to  England. 
With  only  two  attendants  he  appeared  suddenly  at 
Greenwich  and  requested  an  audience  of  the  Queen. 

The  Palace  hummed  with  excitement;  after  years  of 
fruitless  diplomatic  negotiations  a  real  live  suitor  had 
actually  come  in  person  to  woo  the  Maiden  Queen  of 
England.  The  ladies  were  all  agog  to  see  if  Monsieur 
would  prove  as  ugly  as  common  report  credited,  or  the 
captivating  Adonis  depidted  by  the  French  envoys. 
When  eventually  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  grotesque 
little  French  prince,  they  unanimously  gave  the  palm  for 
veracity  to  general  opinion,  and  prepared  to  hear  their 
mistress  wax  sarcastic  over  the  physical  defects  of  her 
proposed  consort. 

Contrary  to  all  expedition  Elizabeth  did  nothing  of 
the  sort.  Instead  she  very  nearly,  if  not  quite,  fell  in  love 
with  the  “pock  marked  boy.”  Ugly  undoubtedly  he  was; 
young  enough  to  be  her  son;  but  withal  original,  witty, 
and  full  of  the  most  pleasing  conceits  of  flattery. 

Alen^on’s  secret  visit,  though  of  brief  duration,  proved 
so  eminently  satisfactory  that  he  returned  to  France 

128 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  129 

fully  confident  of  becoming  the  English  Queen’s  affianced 
husband.  There  followed  much  coming  and  going 
between  the  two  countries,  and  great  preparations  for 
Monsieur’s  public  arrival.  Elizabeth  ordered  a  grand 
banqueting  house  to  be  ereCled  at  Whitehall,  and  made 
purchase  of  six  grey  Hungarian  horses  to  pull  her  coach  ; 
to  render  their  appearance  more  impressive  she  had  their 
manes  and  tails  dyed  orange  colour.  Also,  since  the 
Countess  of  Leicester’s  ladies  drove  in  coaches,  Elizabeth, 
not  to  be  outdone,  bade  her  coach  builder  hie  him  to  work 
with  all  speed  on  fourteen  coaches  for  the  ladies  of  her 
privy  chamber. 

Whether  Elizabeth  really  meant  to  marry  the  Duke  of 
Anjou  no  one  could  tell,  “everyone  fishing  to  catch  the 
Queen’s  humour  in  it.”1  Sir  Francis  Walsingham,  who 
went  over  to  France  to  arrange  for  either  the  match  or 
a  league  against  Spain,  received  such  contradictory 
reports  that  he  wrote  to  Burleigh  in  despair: 

“When  her  Majesty  is  pressed  to  the  marriage,  then  she 
seemeth  to  affeCt  a  league;  and  when  the  league  is  yielded 
to,  then  she  liketh  better  a  marriage;  and  when  thereupon 
she  is  moved  to  assent  to  a  marriage,  she  hathe  recourse 
to  the  league;  and  when  the  motion  for  the  league,  or  any 
request  is  made  for  money,  then  Her  Majesty  returneth 
to  the  marriage.”2 

The  country  generally  disliked  the  proposed  match, 
and  John  Stubbes,  a  gentleman  of  Lincoln’s  Inn,  voiced 
the  general  discontent  in  a  book  called  The  Discovery  oj 
a  gaping  gulf,  wherein  England  is  like  to  be  swallowed  by 

1  Fulke  Greville’s  Life  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

K  2  Digges’s  Complete  Ambassador. 


130  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

another  French  match.  In  it  he  set  forth  all  the  ills  con¬ 
sequent  on  the  nuptials  between  “the  crowned  nymph 
of  England,”  and  “an  imp  of  the  house  of  France.” 

Elizabeth  ordered  the  book  to  be  suppressed,  and 
sentenced  both  writer  and  publisher  to  have  their  right 
hands  struck  off  in  the  market  place  at  Westminster. 
“God  save  the  Queen,”  said  John  Stubbes,  raising  his  hat 
with  his  left  hand  as  the  right  fell  off. 

In  November,  Alen^on  arrived  on  a  second  visit,  Eliza¬ 
beth  evincing  the  greatest  possible  delight  at  his  return. 
At  forty-eight  she  still  retained  a  measure  of  her  good 
looks,  and  left  nothing  undone  to  minimize  the  apparent 
disparity  of  years  between  herself  and  her  boy  lover.  If 
silver  threads  glistened  among  her  once  auburn  locks,  only 
tirewomen  were  wiser,  for  a  periwig1  covered  all  de¬ 
ficiencies.  Moreover,  it  added  the  charm  of  variety,  for 
being  fashionable  and  so  wore  without  disguise  she  could 
select  wigs  of  size  or  shape  to  match  her  different  gowns. 
Then,  too,  if  nature’s  roses  no  longer  bloomed  in  her 
cheeks,  there  was  no  need  to  despair  when  there  were 
means  whereby  she  might  at  will  assume  the  bold  blush, 
or  demurer  tints  of  modest  maidenhood.  Court  ladies 
followed  where  the  Queen  led,  citizen’s  wives  were  no 
whit  behind,  so  that  makers  of  wigs  and  cosmetics 
flourished  exceedingly. 

Moralists  declaimed  bitterly  against  both  customs,  fore- 

1  “  Her  hair  is  auburn,  mine  a  perfect  yellow: 

If  that  be  all  the  difference  in  his  love 
I’ll  get  me  such  a  colour’d  periwig.” 

The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona ,  IV,  4. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  131 

telling  awesomely  that,  “whosoever  doe  colour  their  faces 
or  their  haire  with  any  unnaturall  colour  they  begin  to 
prognosticate  of  what  colour  they  shall  be  in  hell.”1 
Dramatists,  too,  were  not  backward  in  hinting  that 
ladies,  with  “their  cheeks  sugar-candied  and  cherry  blusht 
so  sweetly,”2  dare  not  come  out  in  the  rain  “for  fear  their 
colour  should  be  wash’d  away.”3 

Threats  and  sarcasms  were  alike  thrown  away  on  the 
ladies,  all  bent  on  making  themselves  “prodigiously  nice” 
in  the  eyes  of  the  French  visitors.  Long  and  elaborate 
were  their  preparations  on  those  days  when  Alengon 
waited  in  the  presence  chamber  to  lead  forth  the  Queen. 

In  Elizabeth’s  bedroom  she  and  her  ladies  held  anxious 
consultation  beneath  the  star-spangled  gilt  ceiling.  A  large 
silver-topped  table  held  array  of  toilet  requisites,  whilst 
the  silken-hung  four-post  bedstead,  and  inlaid  coffer 
chests,  were  alike  covered  with  articles  of  dress. 

Seated  on  a  pile  of  gold-covered  cushions  Elizabeth 
passed  her  wardrobe  in  review,  as  one  by  one  Mary 
Scudamore  and  her  helpers  brought  forward  dresses  for 
inspection.  Many  and  of  infinite  variety  were  they:  of 
richest  silks,  velvets  and  satins,  diversely  embroidered  in 
designs  of  figures,  animals,  fruit,  flowers,  insects,  cobwebs 
and  landscapes. 

Mary  Scudamore,  who  had  hundreds  of  gowns  under 
her  charge,  kept  careful  inventory  of  them  all: 

“a  forepart  of  white  satten,  embrodered  all  over  with 
pansies,  little  roses,  knotts,  and  a  border  of  mulberries, 

1  The  Anatomie  of  Abuses ,  Philip  Stubbes. 

2  Nash’s  Pierce  Penilesse.  3  Love’s  Labour’s  Lost,  IV,  3. 


132  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

pillars,  and  pomegranets,  of  Venice  golde,  sylver,  and  sylke 
of  sondrye  colours. 

One  forepart  of  greene  satten,  embrodered  all  over  with 
sylver,  like  beasts,  fowles,  and  fishes. 

A  pettitcoat,  embrodered  all  over  slightly  with  snakes  of 
Venice  gold  and  silver  and  some  O’s,  with  a  faire  border 
embrodered  like  seas,  cloudes,  and  rainebowes. 

One  forepart  of  white  satten,  embrodered  all  over  with 
spiders,  flies,  and  roundells,  with  cobwebs,  of  Venice  golde 
and  tawny  silk.” 

The  Queen’s  ladies  had  helped  to  swell  the  contents  of 
her  wardrobe  with  many  contrivances  of  their  nimble 
fingers.  Lady  Mary  Vere  had  worked  a  “forepart  of  purple 
taphata,  set  with  roses  of  white  syphers  and  cheynes  be¬ 
tween  of  Venice  golde”;  Frances  Howard,  and  a  new 
comer,  Elizabeth  Throckmorton,1  both  gave  beautiful 
embroidered  ruffs,  whilst  Her  Majesty’s  large  stock  of  fancy 
handkerchiefs  were  almost  entirely  of  the  girls’  making. 

When  the  apparel  for  the  day  had  been  decided  upon 
and  the  tirewomen  had  finished  their  handiwork,  they  left 
to  make  way  for  Lady  Howard,  wrho  had  succeeded  Blanche 
Parry  as  keeper  of  the  jewels.  “Kate  Carey,”  Elizabeth’s 
closest  friend  and  confidante,  now  had  a  grown-up  family, 
and  Elizabeth  Howard,  her  eldest  girl  and  the  Queen’s 
god-daughter,  had  recently  come  to  Court  as  Maid  of 
Honour.  Years  had  changed  “Kate  Carey”  into  a  staid 
matron,  but  they  made  scant  alteration  in  her  royal 
cousin,  who  bridled  and  prattled  over  her  latest  love 
affair  as  she  had  done  in  the  days  when  she  and  Kate 
Carey  were  girls  together. 

1  d.  of  Sir  Nicholas  Throckmorton. 


Coll,  of  Major  the  Hon.  Harold  Pearson  Photo  Messrs.  Sotheby's 

KATE  CAREY,  COUNTESS  OF  NOTTINGHAM 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  133 

Trinkets  of  all  kinds,  result  of  many  New  Year’s  gifts, 
sparkled  on  the  trays  which  lay  between  the  two  women. 
Lady  Howard’s  own  contributions  were  by  no  means  in¬ 
considerable,  including  several  jewelled  animals;  a  gold 
and  ruby  dolphin,  a  gold  greyhound  with  diamond- 
studded  collar  and  “a  jewell  of  golde  being  a  catt  and 
myce  playing  with  her  garnished  with  small  diyamonds 
and  perles.”  Blanche  Parry’s  presents  were  even  more 
numerous,  amongst  them  being  an  elaborate  pendant 
representing  “Adam  and  Eve  enamuled  in  white.”  Ann 
Russell  (Countess  of  Warwick),  and  Ann  Cecil  (Countess 
of  Oxford),  were  each  responsible  for  handsome  bracelets; 
Katherine  Knevett  (Lady  Paget-Carey),  a  pair  of  emerald 
ear-rings;  May  Sidney  (Countess  of  Pembroke),  a  gold 
and  diamond-encrusted  mermaid;  a  hair  ornament  of  a 
heart  set  in  a  wreath  of  pearls  came  from  Penelope 
Devereux  (Lady  Rich). 

The  Maids  of  Honour,  though  they  possessed  less  com¬ 
prehensive  wardrobes  and  jewel  chests,  were  no  wise  be¬ 
hind  their  mistress  in  their  anxiety  to  create  a  good 
impression  on  the  French  visitors.  Elizabeth  constantly 
exhorted  them,  “that  decent  attire  is  good  thoughe  it  be 
not  costly,”  but  the  ladies  were  vehemently  of  the  opinion 
that  “unlesse  it  be  deere  it  is  not  comely.”1 

As  usual,  when  in  waiting  they  wore  shimmering  dresses 
of  white  and  silver;  dainty  ruffs  framed  their  bright  hair 
gleaming  with  glittering  jewels;  sparkling  pendants  swung 
beneath  their  clear-cut  chins;  chased  and  scented  poman¬ 
ders  and  fans  hung  from  their  girdles. 

1  Letters  of  Eu-phues ,  John  Lyly. 


134  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Never  had  the  Court  been  so  gay,  for  though  the  ladies 
were  quite  unable  to  discern  Monsieur’s  fascinations  they 
found  the  gentlemen  of  his  entourage  entirely  to  their 
liking.  They  envied  Frances  Howard  the  ease  with  which 
she  could  talk  French,  but  still  they  were  all  quite  capable 
of  making  themselves  understood,  any  deficiencies  in  lan¬ 
guage  being  adequately  filled  by  glances  from  bright  eyes, 
or  coquettish  flirting  with  fans. 

English  courtiers  looked  on  deeply  affronted;  like  the 
Queen’s  disconsolate  favourites,  they  viewed  the  visitors 
with  extreme  disfavour.  Never  had  the  fickle  beauties  of 
the  privy  chamber  seemed  more  attractive;  Mary  Rad- 
cliff  e  so  comely,  Elizabeth  Trentham1  so  fair,  Margaret 
Edgecumbe2  so  modest,  or  Elizabeth  Throckmorton  and 
Elizabeth  Howard  so  entirely  desirable,  now  that  their 
smiles  were  so  lavishly  bestowed  on  the  perfidious  French¬ 
men. 

Day  after  day  there  were  amusements,  and  feasting  in 
the  new  banqueting  hall.  The  Queen  and  Monsieur  at 
one  table,  and  below  them  a  long  one  down  the  room  for 
the  ladies  and  their  companions  the  French  gentlemen. 
English  courtiers  stood,  or  sat  where  they  could,  glowering 
on  the  scene,  whilst  up  above  in  the  leafy  ceiling  birds 
warbled  sweetly. 

It  is  true  that  most  of  the  entertainments  had  to  take 
place  within  the  precincts  of  Whitehall,  it  not  being 
deemed  advisable  to  display  the  person  of  Monsieur  to  the 
unedified  eyes  of  London  citizens.  The  palace,  however, 

1  d.  of  Thomas  Trentham,  of  Rowchester,  Stafford. 

2  d.  Pierce  Edgecumbe  of  Mount  Edgcumb,  M.P.  for  Cornwall. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  135 

had  its  own  resources;  the  guests  hunted  in  St.  James’s  and 
Hyde  Parks;  amused  themselves  with  cock-fighting,  bowls, 
tennis,  or  exercising  in  the  tilt  yard.  Raze  Bowes,  master 
of  the  Queen’s  game  at  Paris  Garden,1  brought  the  most 
famous  bears  over  from  Southwark  to  be  baited  by  dogs 
in  Whitehall. 

The  annual  tournament  in  honour  of  the  Queen’s  acces¬ 
sion  was  held,  as  usual,  at  Whitehall  on  November  17th. 
Elizabeth  in  the  gallery  paid  scant  attention  to  her 
champion,  Sir  Henry  Lee,  and  other  valiant  knights,  so 
engrossed  was  she  by  Alengon,  who  wooed  her  with  per¬ 
suasive  tongue  and  ardent  eyes.  Elizabeth,  fairly  carried 
off  her  feet,  forgot  she  was  a  Queen,  forgot  her  years,  her 
austere  virginity;  everything,  indeed,  save  the  magic  of 
love.  Taking  a  ring  from  her  finger,  she  gave  it  to  Alengon, 
so  openly  that  he,  and  all  who  saw  the  act,  regarded  it  as 
a  definite  pledge  of  betrothal. 

Ambassadors  hastened  back  to  despatch  special  couriers 
with  the  news;  Londoners  heard  the  report  with  dolour; 
pedlars  leaving  town  that  night  advertized  it  through  the 
provinces  along  with  their  wares. 

At  the  palace  excitement  ran  high.  The  ladies  were  be¬ 
sieged  with  petitions  to  use  all  their  influence  to  prevent 
the  engagement,  if  possible,  but  in  any  case  to  ascertain 
exactly  how  far  matters  had  gone. 

The  ladies  who  had  no  wish  for  their  mistress  to  marry, 

1  The  noise  at  these  entertainments  became  proverbial,  any 
rowdy  assemblage  being  termed  a  “perfect  bear  garden.”  From 
the  same  source  came  the  synonym  for  bad  temper,  “a  bear  with 
a  sore  head,” 


136  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

promised  whole-hearted  support,  and  before  the  Queen 
returned  to  the  privy  chamber  they  evolved  a  plan  of 
campaign.  When  Elizabeth,  already  repenting  of  her  rash¬ 
ness,  rejoined  them  she  found  them  all  in  tears  and  very 
Job’s  comforters: 

“The  Queene’s  women  with  whom  she  was  familiar, 
wailed,  and  by  laying  terrors  before  her,  did  so  vex  her 
mind  with  anguish,  that  she  spent  the  night  in  doubteful 
care  without  sleepe,  amongst  her  women  which  did 
nothing  but  weepe.”1 

Ladies  of  the  bedchamber  foretold  diminution  of  her 
power  and  loss  of  the  nation’s  affedtion;  Blanche  Parry  re¬ 
called  the  unhappiness  of  her  sister  Mary  with  Philip  of 
Spain;  Mary  Radcliffe  requoted  Elizabeth’s  own  argu¬ 
ments  on  the  superiority  of  virginity;  Maids  of  Honour 
with  gusto  repeated  reasons  the  Queen  had  used  to  thwart 
their  own  love  affairs.  In  united  chorus  they  wrung  their 
hands  and  besought  her  not  to  throw  herself  away  upon 
a  beardless  boy. 

Morning  found  the  ladies  exhausted  but  triumphant, 
and  Elizabeth  resolved  to  remain  a  spinster.  Having  dried 
their  eyes  and  repaired  the  damage  to  their  complexions, 
Maids  of  Honour  assured  the  anxious  courtiers  without 
that  all  would  be  well,  as  Her  Majesty  had  sent  a  message 
to  Sir  Christopher  Hatton,  requesting  him  to  come  at 
once  in  order  to  help  her  out  of  a  very  difficult  situation. 

Alenf  on  paid  an  early  visit  with  all  the  confidence  of  an 
assured  lover,  but  his  eager  protestations  of  affedtion  were 


1  Camden’s  Annales 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  137 

chilled  by  the  Queen’s  evident  agitation,  and  the  presence 
of  an  undoubtedly  hostile  third  party. 

Elizabeth  in  eulogistic  terms  professed  the  deepest 
affedfion  for  Monsieur,  and  though  she  had  decided  never 
to  marry  she  begged  that  he  would  think  of  her  as  a  sister. 

Monsieur,  angry  and  mortified,  flatly  refused  to  do  any¬ 
thing  of  the  sort:  he  declared  that  Englishwomen  were  as 
fickle  as  their  climate,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Elizabeth  could  not  bear  to  see  her  “little  frog”  cry, 
and  drying  his  eyes  with  her  own  handkerchief,  endea¬ 
voured  to  console  him  with  words  “even  more  tender  than 
the  occasion  demanded.” 

Altogether  it  proved  a  sad  ending  to  a  pleasantly  pro- 
trafted  flirtation,  and  when  Monsieur  left  Elizabeth  and 
the  ladies  accompanied  the  departing  visitors  to  Canter¬ 
bury,  where  “the  departure  was  mournful  between  her 
majesty  and  Monsieur,  she  loth  to  let  him  go  and  he  as 
loth  to  depart.” 

Equally  regretful  were  the  French  gentlemen  to  say 
good-bye  to  the  ladies,  “to  all  of  whom  it  was  like  grief 
to  depart  after  they  had  conversed  and  lived  friendlie  and 
brotherlie  together  for  the  space  of  three  months.”1 

To  do  Monsieur  all  honour  a  number  of  prominent 
courtiers  attended  him  as  far  as  Antwerp,  among  them 
being  the  Earl  of  Leicester, Charles  Howard, Philip  Sidney, 
Fulke  Greville,  Edward  Dyer,  William  Knollys,  Walter 
Raleigh  and  Peregrine  Bertie. 

1  Talbot  Papers, 


CHAPTER  XV 


PEREGRINE  BERTIE,  one  of  the  escort  who 
right  gladly  accompanied  Elizabeth’s  rejedfed 
suitor  out  of  England,  was  the  only  son  of  the 
Duchess  of  Suffolk  by  her  second  husband,  Mr.  Richard 
Bertie.  Peregrine  gained  his  name  by  the  accident  of  his 
birth,  which  took  place  at  Wesel  during  his  parents’  wan¬ 
derings  on  the  Continent  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary. 
On  the  accession  of  Elizabeth,  and  restoration  of  the 
Protestant  religion,  the  family  returned  to  England. 

Peregrine  went  early  to  Court,  where  he  fell  in  with  a 
rollicking  set  of  young  courtiers  whose  riotous  doings 
caused  their  parents  no  little  anxiety.  The  Duchess  of 
Suffolk  wrote  in  alarm  to  Lord  Burleigh,  “intreating  him 
for  God’s  sake  to  give  the  young  man,  her  son,  good 
counsel  to  bridle  his  youth,”  and  to  send  him  down  into 
the  country  to  his  father  before  he  got  into  worse  mischief. 

Having  sown  his  wild  oats,  Peregrine  settled  down  into 
a  sober,  honest  soldier,  who  held  that  “a  court  became  a 
souldier  of  good  skill  and  great  spirit,  as  a  bed  of  down 
would  one  of  the  Tower  lions.”1 

He  had,  however,  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  one  of  the 
Court  ladies,  Lady  Mary  Vere,  and  her  he  very  earnestly 
desired  to  make  his  wife.  She  was  willing,  but  her  brother, 
the  Earl  of  Oxford,  not  only  withheld  his  consent,  but  did 
everything  possible  to  thwart  the  match. 

1  Fuller’s  Worthies.  The  lions  kept  in  the  Tower  menagerie 
were  famous  and  considered  one  of  the  sights  of  London. 

*3* 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  139 

Fearing  Lady  Mary  would  think  him  neglectful  in  not 
coming  to  see  her,  Peregrine  wrote  to  explain  how  matters 
stood. 

“My  owne  good  lady,  I  am  not  a  little  grieved  that  I 
have  not  on  this  time  resolved  the  doubts  I  left  you  in, 
and  so  much  the  more  as  I  feare  it  hath  caused  your  un¬ 
quietness,  in  whom  I  make  more  account  of  than  myselfe 
or  life,  and  therefore  resolve  yourself  that  if  I  had  fit  time 
I  would  not  slightly  overpass  it.  But  the  truth  is,  by  other 
trobles,  I  have  yet  hard  nothinge  of  that  matter  worthie 
the  sendinge,  yet  did  I  think  not  to  lose  so  much  occasyon 
since  I  know  not  whan  to  recover  it  agayne,  as  to  let 
understand  how  uncurteously  I  am  delte  with  by  my 
Lord  your  brother,  who,  as  I  heare,  bandeth  against  me 
and  sweareth  my  death,  which  I  feare  not  nor  force  not, 
but  lest  his  displeasure  shold  withdraw  your  affedfion  to¬ 
wards  me,  otherwise  I  think  no  way  to  be  so  offended  as 
I  can  not  deffend.  And  thus  good  lady  parsuade  yourselfe 
no  lesse  than  you  shall  find  I  will  give  cause  to  perfourme. 
Above  all  things  if  you  wishe  me  well  let  nothing  greve 
you  whatsoever  you  shall  heare  do  happe.  For  my  own 
parte  my  good  or  ill  fortune  consisteth  only  in  you,  whom 
I  must  request  to  accepet  as  well  this  scribbled  well  mean¬ 
ing  as  eloquence,  which  are  locked  upp  so  fast  as  I  could 
skarce  get  pen  and  paper  to  be  the  present  messengers  of 
my  pore  good  will,  and  thus  end  a  wyfull  man,  having 
received  new  occasyon  by  your  letter  of  this  instant  to 
troble  you  more  hereafter  withal.  From  Willoughbie 
house.  Yours  more  than  his  owne  and  so  till  his  end.”1 

Peregrine  Bertie’s  family  were  quite  as  much  opposed 
to  the  match  as  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  and  Lady  Mary  Vere 
paid  a  visit  to  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk  in  the  hope  of  coming 
1  Earl  of  Ancaster’s  MSS.,  Hist.  MSS.  Com. 


140  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

to  some  understanding.  The  Duchess  said  frankly  she 
would  rather  her  son  “had  matched  in  any  other  place,”1 
and  if  Lady  Mary  proved  like  her  brother  she  would  not 
have  her  for  a  daughter-in-law  if  an  empire  followed  her. 

Lady  Mary  pleaded  that  she  could  neither  rule  her 
brother’s  tongue  nor  help  his  faults;  but  for  herself  she 
would  prove  such  a  dutiful  daughter  that  her  mother- 
in-law  “should  have  no  cause  to  mislike  her.”  If  the 
Duchess  and  Mr.  Bertie  would  but  give  their  goodwill 
to  the  marriage,  she  and  Peregrine  asked  for  nothing  else. 

The  Duchess  replied  that  they  would  require  something 
more  tangible  than  that  on  whch  to  start  housekeeping. 
She  feared  her  husband  would  be  so  much  against  the 
match  that  he  would  give  little  more  than  his  goodwill, 
even  if  he  gave  that. 

Also  the  Queen’s  consent  to  Peregrine’s  marrying 
anybody  had  to  be  obtained,  for  as  the  Duchess  pointed 
out,  “if  her  majesty  mislike  of  it,  sure  we  turn  him  to  the 
wild  world.” 

Lady  Mary  replied  that  they  had  already  thought  of 
this,  and  had  begged  Lord  Sussex  and  Sir  Christopher 
Hatton  to  speak  in  their  favour.  If  only  the  Duchess 
would  write  to  ask  Lord  Burleigh’s  assistance,  then  surely 
with  three  such  powerful  champions  the  Queen  would  not 
withhold  the  desired  permission. 

The  Duchess  promptly  pointed  out  that  the  Earl  of 
Oxford  had  treated  Ann  Cecil  so  badly  that  she  could 
hardly  ask  a  favour  for  his  sister.  Lady  Mary  persisted 
that  Lord  Burleigh  could  not  be  so  unjust  as  to  visit  her 

1  Salisbury  MSS. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  141 

brother’s  offences  on  her.  Moreover,  she  flatteringly- 
insinuated  that  the  Duchess  had  such  influence  with  the 
lord  treasurer  that  she  could  make  him  do  anything  she 
wanted. 

The  Duchess  refused  to  make  any  definite  promise, 
and  did  her  best  to  keep  her  son  from  Court.  At  this  the 
Queen  took  umbrage,  thinking  it  a  slight  against  herself. 
The  Duchess  of  Suffolk  then  did  as  Lady  Mary  wanted, 
and  wrote  to  ask  Lord  Burleigh  to  do  what  he  could  for 
the  young  people.  The  Queen,  on  being  approached, 
would  not  at  first  say  ay  or  nay,  but  after  keeping  the 
lovers  in  suspense  for  some  time  she  eventually  gave  her 
consent. 

Mary  exchanged  a  gay  Court  life  for  a  quiet  one  full  of 
domestic  interests,  when  she  started  housekeeping  at 
the  family  mansion  in  the  Barbican.  Peregrine,  who  on 
the  death  of  his  mother  became  Lord  Willoughby  de 
Eresby,  liked  an  orderly  life,  for  the  furtherance  whereby 
he  drew  up  a  code  of  rules  to  be  observed  by  all  in  his 
service.  At  the  end  of  the  list  he  added  a  general  exhorta¬ 
tion: 

“I  do  wish  and  heartily  desire  that  all  my  servants 
should  be  of  godly  virtuous  and  honest  conversation, 
refraining  from  vicious  living,  unseemly  talk,  excessive 
drinking,  seditious  language,  mocking,  scoffing,  or  mis¬ 
naming,  and  that  by  abstaining  from  variance,  dissensions, 
debates,  frays,  sowing  of  discord,  malice,  envy  and  hatred, 
they  shall  live  and  continue  in  all  friendly  affeftion  to¬ 
gether,  as  it  becometh  the  body  of  one  family,  to  love  the 
one  the  other;  and  towards  all  strangers  to  be  of  honest 
and  conrteous  entertainment.  By  which  doings,  God  will 


142  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

the  sooner  bless  my  proceedings,  prosper  your  doings,  and 
myself  will  not  fail  in  what  I  possibly  may  to  do  you  good.”1 

The  Queen  had  too  high  opinion  of  Lord  Willoughby 
to  allow  him  to  remain  long  at  home,  and  in  1582  he 
went  as  ambassador  to  Denmark,  leaving  Mary  behind 
“to  playe  the  good  huswyfe.”  Luckily  the  young  wife  had 
a  counsellor  in  John  Stubbes  who  had  lost  his  hand  for 
opposing  the  French  marriage.  When  trouble  arose  over 
some  suits  of  armour  which  Lord  Willoughby’s  cousin 
demanded,  but  Mary  refused  to  let  go  without  more 
direct  authority,  John  Stubbes  upheld  her  decision  to 
Lord  Willoughby: 

“  Good  my  Lord,  my  lady  your  wife  takes  upon  herself 
for  guardian  of  your  house  and  what  is  therein  during 
your  absence  ...  it  would  remedy  all  to  delyver  your 
pleasure  in  a  few  written  words.  To  say  the  truth,  it  is 
no  tryfelyng  matter  to  empty  your  store  of  armour.  It 
is  a  man’s  other  threshory,  therefore  requireth  some 
warrant  from  yourself.  A  man  shall  hardly  get  a  robbinet 
out  of  her  majesty’s  armoury  without  a  warrant.”2 

Mary’s  nursery  filled  quickly,  for  though  she  had  the 
sorrow  to  lose  her  first  little  girl,  four  boys — Peregrine, 
Henry,  Vere  and  Roger — followed  in  quick  succession. 

During  her  periods  of  enforced  idleness  Mary  lay  in 
state  in  her  “great  chamber,”  the  large  room  upstairs 
dedicated  to  the  important  events  of  family  life.  Heirs 
were  born  in  the  great  chamber,  where  again  in  the 
fullness  of  years  they  lay  statuesque  in  death.  Young 
mothers  in  a  white  hung  bed  received  congratulations; 

1  Earl  of  Ancaster’s  MSS.  2  Ibid. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  143 

widows  environed  by  black  curtains  accepted  condolences. 
Babies  were  frequently  christened  in  the  State  bedroom; 
often  the  same  surroundings  saw  them  united  in  the  bonds 
of  holy  matrimony. 

Lady  Willoughby’s  household  treasures  were  under  her 
immediate  eye  as  she  waited  in  readiness  for  her  visitors, 
whose  coaches  could  be  heard  rumbling  over  the  cobbles 
of  the  Barbican.  Mary’s  immense  four-post  bedstead  had 
curtains  of  white  satin  enriched  with  a  design  carried  out 
in  gleaming  silk  and  mother  of  pearl;  the  bedspread, 
exquisite  in  colour  and  needlework,  had  been  worked  by 
her  own  hands.  Rose  petals  covered  the  floor;  the  richest 
set  of  tapestry  the  house  afforded  hung  on  the  walls; 
handsome  cabinets  displayed  chased  silver  ware  and 
tinted  china;  small  tables  inlaid  with  tortoiseshell  and 
silver  stood  about  bearing  jars  of  potpourri. 

Lady  Willoughby’s  eyes  brightened  when  her  friends 
entered  the  room,  for  time  hung  heavy  on  her  hands  so 
that  she  longed  for  some  one  to  come  and  play  cards,  or 
enliven  her  solitude  with  the  latest  Court  gossip. 

Of  the  latter  the  ladies  usually  had  plentiful  supply. 
They  told  of  disagreements  between  the  Earl  and 
Countess  of  Leicester;  the  unhappy  married  life  of  Lord 
and  Lady  Rich;  the  latest  stories  of  the  Queen’s  favourites; 
or  discussed  with  bated  breath  the  execution  of  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots. 

In  the  privy  chamber  they  spoke  of  many  changes: 
Frances  Howard  and  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  after  nine 
years  of  waiting,  had  at  length  married  with  the  “joyful 
will  and  good  liking  of  the  Queen.”  They  were  living  in 


144  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Canon  Row,  but  as  Elizabeth  had  stipulated  that  Frances 
should  not  leave  her  entirely,  she  would  probably  be  in 
residence  when  the  Court  moved  to  Greenwich.  Her 
Majesty  had  been  present  at  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth 
Howard  to  Sir  Robert  Southwell,1  and  had  signified  her 
affe&ion  for  Margaret  Edgecumbe,  by  presenting  her 
with  a  pair  of  richly  embroidered  gloves,  when  she  left 
Court  to  become  the  bride  of  Edward  Denny.2 

There  arose  some  difficulty  over  a  name  for  Mary’s 
second  daughter,  born  during  Lord  Willoughby’s  absence 
as  Ambassador  to  Denmark.  Mary  thought  it  would  please 
him  if  she  called  the  baby  Frederick  after  the  Danish  King. 
The  new  baby  proving  a  girl  upset  this  plan,  but  Mary 
decided  to  call  her  Sophia  after  the  Frederick’s  Queen 
and  to  ask  the  Danish  ambassador  to  stand  “gossip.” 

John  Stubbes,  as  usual  called  for  consultation,  approved 
and  promised  to  wait  on  the  ambassador.  A  cautious 
friend,  however,  advised  him  not  to  do  so  before  Lady 
Willoughby  had  obtained  the  Queen’s  sanction.  Elizabeth 
might  be  pleased;  on  the  other  hand  she  might  not,  when 
there  would  be  trouble  for  all  concerned.  So,  indeed,  it 
proved,  for  Elizabeth  when  approached  on  the  matter 
“liked  that  he  should  be  banqueted  but  not  gossipped.” 

Other  godparents  were  found,  but  the  question  of  the 
baby’s  name  remained  undecided.  The  Countess  of 
Huntingdon,  chief  gossip,  handed  the  child  to  the 
clergyman,  giving  the  name  Sophia  as  she  knew  the 

1  Son  of  Thomas  Southwell,  vide  p.  90. 

2  Sir  E.  Denny,  Gentleman  of  the  Privy  Chamber,  son  of  Sir 
Anthony  Denny,  Gentleman  of  the  Privy  Chamber  to  Henry  VIII. 


Coll.  of  Major  the  Hon.  Harold  Pearson  Photo  Messrs.  Sotheby  s 

ELIZABETH  HOWARD,  LADY  SOUTHWELL 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  145 

mother  wished.  The  other  two  gossips,  either  through 
ignorance  or  design,  gave  the  name  Katherine  after  the 
Countess  of  Huntingdon.1  The  result  was  that  at  the  end 
of  the  ceremony,  neither  mother,  nor  “gossips,”  nor  John 
Stubbes  was  the  least  sure  what  name  the  baby  had 
received.  In  some  embarrassment  John  Stubbes  wrote  to 
Lord  Willoughby:  “So  have  you  a  Katherine  name  after 
my  lady’s  grace  your  mother,  and  yet  to  please  the 
Danish  Queen,  you  may  rightly  say  that  at  the  font  by 
the  most  honourable  gossip,  it  was  named  Sophia.” 

Lord  Willoughby  served  under  the  Earl  of  Leicester 
in  the  Low  Countries,  where  he  gained  distinction  by 
unhorsing  the  Spanish  leader.  “I  yield  myself  to  you  for 
that  you  be  a  seemly  knight,”  cried  the  Spaniard  as  man 
and  horse  rolled  over  under  the  shock  of  their  opponent’s 
lance.  News  of  this  doughty  deed  fired  the  ballad  singers, 
who  in  market  places  and  fairs  stentoriously  declaimed  the 
valorous  doings  of  “Brave  Lord  Willoughby.” 

At  Court,  though  the  deed  did  not  lack  appreciation 
among  those  who  had  witnessed  “Peregrine  Bertie’s” 
prowess  in  the  tournaments,  it  was  too  deeply  over¬ 
shadowed  by  a  calamity  which  formed  the  chief  topic  of 
conversation.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  too,  had  gone  over  to 
Flanders,  and  one  foggy  morning  had  ridden  forth  to  the 
Battle  of  Zutphen.  Valiantly  he  rode  at  the  head  of  his 
men;  bravely  he  fought;  sore  was  he  wounded.  Lying  on 
the  ground  with  a  shattered  thigh,  he  asked  faintly  for 
water.  As  he  lifted  the  bottle  to  his  lips  Philip  saw  a  dying 

1  Katherine,  d.  of  John  Dudley,  Duke  Northumberland,  m. 
Henry,  3rd  Earl  Huntingdon. 


146  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

soldier  with  parched  lips  looking  longingly  towards  it. 
Instantly  he  handed  it  to  the  man,  saying  gently,  “Thy 
necessity  is  yet  greater  than  mine.” 

Grievous  was  the  wound,  but  the  surgeons  did  not 
despair;  “with  love  and  care  well  mixed,  they  began  the 
cure,  and  continued  it  some  sixteen  days,  not  with  hope, 
but  rather  such  confidence  of  his  recovery,  as  the  joy  of 
their  hearts  over-flowed  their  discretion,  and  made  them 
spread  the  intelligence  of  it  to  the  Queen,  and  all  his 
noble  friends  here  in  England  when  it  was  received,  not  as 
private,  but  public  good  news.”1 

Despite  the  doctors’  optimism,  and  his  wife’s  careful 
nursing,  Philip  Sidney  grew  worse,  and  after  lingering  for 
three  weeks  he  died  on  Monday,  17th  October,  1586. 

The  Queen,  who  had  constantly  written  to  Philip 
during  his  illness,  was  overwhelmed  with  sorrow;  so  were 
all  the  ladies,  his  many  men  friends,  the  army  abroad,  and 
the  nation  at  home.  “It  was  accounted  a  sin,  for  any 
gentleman  of  quality,  for  many  months  after,  to  appear 
at  Court  or  City,  in  any  light  or  gaudy  apparel.”2 

Heaviest  of  all  the  blow  fell  on  sister  Mary,  the 
Countess  of  Pembroke,  who  expressed  the  agony  of  her 
grief  in 

“The  Doleful  Lay  of  Clorinda 

“Ah  me  !  to  whom  shall  I  my  case  complain, 

That  may  compassion  my  impatient  grief? 

Or  where  shall  I  unfold  my  inward  pain, 

That  my  enriven  heart  may  find  relief? 

Shall  I  unto  the  heavenly  powers  it  show? 

Or  unto  earthly  men  that  dwell  below. 

1  Fulke  Greville’s  Life  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
i  The  Life  and  Death  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  147 

To  heavens?  ah,  they,  alas,  the  authors  were 
And  workers  of  my  unremedied  woe: 

For  they  foresaw,  what  to  us  happens  here, 

And  they  foresaw,  yet  suffered  this  be  so. 

From  them  comes  good;  from  them  comes  also  ill; 

That  which  they  made,  who  can  them  warn  to  spill? 

To  men?  ah,  they,  alas,  like  wretched  be, 

And  subject  to  the  heaven’s  ordinance; 

Bound  to  obey  whatever  they  decree, 

Their  best  redress  is  their  best  sufferance. 

How  then  can  they,  like  wretched,  comfort  me, 

The  which  no  less  need  comforted  to  be? 

Then  to  myself  will  I  my  sorrow  mourn, 

Since  more  alive  like  sorrowful  remains  ; 

And  to  myself  my  plaints  shall  back  return, 

To  pay  their  usury  with  doubled  pains. 

The  woods,  the  hills,  the  rivers  shall  resound 

The  mournful  accent  of  my  sorrow’s  ground.” 

Seven  hundred  mourners  followed  Sir  Philip  Sidney  to 
his  resting-place  in  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral.  In  London’s 
most  famous  church  rested  his  body;  his  soul  with  God; 
his  memory  enshrined  in  the  heritage  of  unborn  gener¬ 
ations,  as  Camden  prophetically  pretold: 

“Rest  then  in  peace,  O  Sidney,  we  will  not  celebrate 
your  memory  with  tears,  but  admiration.  Whatever  we 
loved  in  you,  whatever  we  admired  in  you,  still  continues 
and  will  continue  in  the  memories  of  men,  the  revolutions 
of  ages,  and  the  annals  of  time.  Many,  as  inglorious  and 
ignoble,  are  buried  in  oblivion;  but  Sidney  shall  live  to  all 
posterity.”1 


1  Camden’s  Britannia. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


y4  MONG  the  young  men  who  came  to  Court  to 

/  %  seek  their  fortunes  was  Mr.  Walter  Raleigh,  son 
.X.  _m.of  a  Devonshire  squire.  Though  of  no  great 
family  he  obtained  introduction  to  the  Palace  through 
the  influence  of  two  kinsfolk,  Mrs.  Ashley,  the  Queen’s 
old  governess,  and  Arthur  Georges1  one  of  the  gentleman 
pensioners. 

Raleigh,  with  veins  afire  for  adventure,  lacked  the 
wherewithal  to  prosecute  the  schemes  teeming  in  his 
eager  brain,  but  he  had  plenty  of  assurance,  and  in 
appearance  confidently  held  his  owm,  “having  a  good 
presence  in  a  handsome  well  compacted  person;  a  strong 
natural  wit,  and  better  judgement;  with  a  bold  and 
plausible  tongue,  whereby  he  could  set  out  his  parts  to 
the  best  advantage.”2 

Raleigh’s  first  care  was  to  doff  his  country  habiliments 
and  deck  himself  out  in  the  extremity  of  fashion,  that 
he  might  jet  up  and  down  with  the  rest  of  the  young 
gallants,  who  disdained  no  device  to  set  off  their  attrac¬ 
tions.  One  of  them,  Sir  John  Harrington,3  the  Queen’s 
“saucy  godson,”  naively  explained  some  of  the  current 
devices:  “We  goe  brave  in  apparell  that  wee  may  be 
taken  for  better  men  than  wee  bee;  we  use  much 

1  Third  son  of  Sir  William  Georges,  Vice-Admiral  of  the  Fleet. 
His  mother  was  cousin  of  Walter  Raleigh. 

2  Naunton’s  Fragmenta  Regalia. 

3  Son  of  Sir  John  Harrington  and  Isabella  Markham,  Maid  of 
Honour  to  Elizabeth  before  her  accession. 

148 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  149 

bumbastings  and  quiltings  to  seem  fitter  formed,  better 
shouldered,  smaller  wasted,  fulled  thyght  than  wee  are; 
wee  barbe  and  shave  often  to  seeme  younger  than  wee 
are;  wee  use  perfumes  both  inward  and  outward  to  seeme 
sweeter  than  wee  bee;  we  use  courtuous  salutations  to 
seem  kinder  than  we  be;  and  somtymes  graver  and  godly 
communications,  to  seem  wyser  than  wee  bee.”1 

The  outfit  of  an  aspiring  courtier  needed  a  long 
purse:  velvet  doublets,  plumed  hats,  silk  hose,  and 
fashionable  footwear  all  ran  away  with  money.  Piccadilly 
ruffs,  now  grown  so  elaborate  that  they  cost  several 
pounds  apiece,  were  alone  enough  to  ruin  a  poor  man. 

Cloaks  too,  the  finishing  touch  to  the  exquisite,  were 
ruinously  expensive  when  made  of  “divers  and  sundrye 
colours,  white,  red,  tawnie,  black,  greene,  yellow,  russet, 
purple,  velvet,  taffetie  and  such  like,  whereof  some  be  of 
the  Spanishe,  French,  and  Dutch  Fashions.”2  They 
were  slashed,  embroidered,  richly  lined,  ornamented  with 
tassels,  glass  bugles,  or  even  prescious  stones,  as  described 
by  Christopher  Marlowe  in  his  account  of  a  typical 
gallant: 

“He  wears  a  lord’s  revenue  on  his  back 
And  Midas  like  he  jets  it  in  the  Court, 

With  base  outlandish  cullions  at  his  heels 
Whose  proud  fantastic  livedes  make  such  show, 

As  if  that  Proteus,  god  of  shapes,  appear’d. 

I  have  not  seen  a  dapper  jack  so  brisk 
He  wears  a  short  Italian  hooded  cloak, 

Larded  with  pearl,  and  in  his  Tuscan  cap, 

A  jewel  of  more  value  than  a  crown.”3 

1  Harrington’s  Nugee  Antiques. 

2  Stubbes’s  Anatomy  of  Abuses. 


3  Edward  II,  I,  4. 


150  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Young  men  who  travelled  on  the  Continent  brought 
back  foreign  words,  and  clothes  in  general  use  in  the 
countries  they  had  visited.  These  were  immediately  copied 
in  slavish  emulation  by  the  would-be  fashionable  youths 
of  the  time.  Courtiers  who  had  never  set  foot  out  of 
England  interlarded  their  conversation  with  foreign 
phrases,  and  intrigued  with  their  tailors  for  new-fashioned 
garments.  Often  the  results  proved  incongruous,  to  the 
amusement  of  the  ladies,  who  openly  mocked  at  their 
admirers’  appearance : 

“How  oddly  he  is  suited!  I  think  he  bought  his 
doublet  in  Italy,  his  round  hose  in  France,  his  bonnet 
in  Germany,  and  his  behaviour  everywhere.”1 

Walter  Raleigh,  Thomas  Perrot,2  Thomas  Shirley,3 
Arthur  Gorges,  Thomas  Cavendish4 5  and  Robert  Carey6 
cut  brave  figures  in  their  fashionable  attire;  but  between 
vanity,  jealousy  and  having  nothing  particular  to  do,  they 
not  infrequently  got  into  trouble. 

Walter  Raleigh  and  Thomas  Perrot  fell  out,  and  had  to 
appear  before  the  privy  council  “for  a  fraye  made  betwixt 
them.”  As  result  they  found  unwelcome  accommodation 
at  the  Fleet  for  six  days,  when  they  were  again  admonished 

1  Merchant  of  Venice ,  I,  2. 

2  Son  of  Sir  John  Perrot,  reputed  natural  son  of  Henry  VIII. 

3  Son  of  Sir  Thos.  Shirley,  of  Wiston,  Sussex.  Fitted  out  several 
privateering  expeditions.  M.P.  for  Bramber  and  Hastings,  1601. 
Captured  by  Turks,  1602.  James  I  petitioned  for  his  release. 

4  Thomas  Cavendish,  of  Grimston  Hall,  Suffolk. 

5  Youngest  son  of  1st  Lord  Hunsdon,  brother  of  Lady  Howard 

and  Lady  Scrope.  Carried  news  of  Elizabeth’s  death  to  James  I. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  15  i 

for  their  good  behaviour.  Eventually  they  obtained  release 
on  an  undertaking  to  keep  Her  Majesty’s  peace,  “the  one 
toward  the  other,  and  in  the  mean  season  to  demean  them¬ 
selves  quietly.”1 

Thomas  Perrot  soon  got  into  worse  disfavour  for  pre¬ 
suming  to  fall  in  love  with  Lady  Dorothy  Devereux,  and 
marrying  her  without  the  Queen’s  permission.  The  wed¬ 
ding  took  place  at  Broxbourn  in  Hertfordshire,  whither 
Lady  Dorothy  had  gone  on  a  visit  to  some  friends.  Fearing 
the  vicar  would  not  perform  the  ceremony,  they  obtained 
the  services  of  a  more  obliging  cleric,  who  went  up  to  the 
vicarage  to  ask  for  the  key  of  the  church.  Two  men  with 
daggers  under  their  cloaks  guarded  the  church  door,  and 
when  the  vicar,  becoming  suspicious,  arrived  on  the 
scene,  he  received  rough  handling.  He  asked  to  see  the 
licence,  which  the  bridegroom  produced  readily  enough, 
but  would  not  allow  it  to  be  read.  Perrot  then  offered  the 
vicar  a  ryall  to  marry  him  and  Lady  Dorothy,  but  he  re¬ 
fused,  and  tried  to  snatch  the  book  from  the  strange 
clergyman  who,  without  surplice,  in  his  cloak,  with  riding 
boots  and  spurs,  gabbled  the  service  through. 

As  might  have  been  foreseen,  Elizabeth  punished 
Thomas  Perrot  for  his  presumption  in  daring  to  take  unto 
himself  a  wife  without  her  sandfion;  Dorothy  Devereux 
for  having  wedded  an  inferior  in  rank,  and  Bishop  Aylmer 
for  granting  the  marriage  licence. 

Walter  Raleigh’s  sins  of  commission  were  not  enough  to 
bring  him  to  the  Queen’s  notice,  though  he  suffered  a 
second  short  imprisonment  for  being  concerned  in  a 

1  Acts  of  the  Privy  Council. 


152  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

quarrel  at  the  tennis  court.  Very  earnestly  indeed  did  he 
desire  to  attradf  Elizabeth’s  attention  favourably  unto 
himself,  and  at  length  fortune  granted  him  opportunity. 
Elizabeth  started  out  for  a  walk  in  Greenwich  Park  accom¬ 
panied  by  her  ladies  and  a  number  of  courtiers,  among 
them  Mr.  Walter  Raleigh  tricked  out  to  admiration. 
Presently  the  party  came  to  a  miry  place,  where  the  boggy 
ground  squelched  under  the  ladies’  high-heeled  shoes. 
Elizabeth  hesitated,  loath  to  wet  her  feet,  courtiers  scat¬ 
tered  to  right  and  left  searching  a  drier  crossing,  when  up 
stepped  Mr.  Walter  Raleigh,  unloosed  his  handsome  cloak, 
laid  it  on  the  muddy  ground  and  deferentially  besought 
Her  Majesty  to  honour  him  by  stepping  on  it.  Elizabeth, 
smiling  gracious  appreciation  of  this  act  of  gallantry,  passed 
over  dry  shod,  whereon  triumphant  Mr.  Raleigh  picked  up 
his  muddy  cloak  to  the  envious  chagrin  of  all  his  fellows. 

The  act  of  chivalry  soon  had  its  reward,  for  Elizabeth 
had  noted  both  the  young  man’s  good  looks  and  resource¬ 
ful  mind.  She  prided  herself  on  having  “a  nice  taste  in 
men”  for  their  appearance,  coupled  with  acute  perception 
of  their  inward  worth  as  useful  servants  of  the  State. 
Closer  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Raleigh  confirmed  her  good 
opinion  and  he  took  up  the  running  for  Court  favourite. 
At  first  Raleigh  in  amazement  affedled  diffidence: 

“Fain  would  I  climb  but  that  I  fear  to  fall” 

he  scratched  on  a  window-pane  in  the  Queen’s  presence. 
Elizabeth  in  turn,  taking  the  diamond,  completed  the 

couplet.  tj1y.  heart  faii  thee  climb  not  at  all.”1 

1  Fuller’s  Worthies. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  153 

Thus  heartened,  Raleigh  hesitated  no  longer,  but 
climbed  with  such  right  goodwill,  that  the  two  long- 
established  favourites,  the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  Sir 
Christopher  Hatton,  were  furious.  Leicester  brought  his 
youthful  stepson,  the  Earl  of  Essex,  to  Court  in  the  hope 
of  supplanting  their  new  rival,  but  for  a  time  it  seemed  as 
if  Raleigh,  and  he  alone,  could  please  the  Queen’s  fancy. 

Sir  Walter  had  achieved  far  more  than  he  ever  dared  to 
hope,  but  he  also  found  that  the  position  of  Queen’s 
favourite  had  its  drawbacks.  Elizabeth  was  an  exadling 
mistress,  who  wished  to  have  the  object  of  her  affedfion 
always  within  sight,  whereas  Raleigh  longed  to  join  in  the 
adventurous  lives  of  privateers  and  explorers.  He  had  great 
ideas  for  the  colonization  of  Virginia,  the  newly  dis¬ 
covered  land  named  after  the  Virgin  Queen,  but  when  the 
time  for  parting  came  Elizabeth  would  not  let  her 
favourite  go,  and  Thomas  Cavendish  went  in  his  stead. 

Cavendish,  whose  sister  had  recently  been  appointed  to 
a  place  in  the  privy  chamber,  had  squandered  his  patri¬ 
mony  in  youthful  excesses  at  Court  so  that  he  took  to 
privateering  as  a  means  of  restoring  his  fortune.  To  filch 
a  prize  from  Spain  was  accorded  meritorious  by  all,  so  that 
when  Cavendish  captured  the  Santa  Anna,  a  famous 
treasure  ship,  his  country  acclaimed  him.  On  his  return 
he  sailed  up  the  Thames  in  splendour,  the  sails  of  his  ship 
being  cloth  of  gold,  and  his  seamen  clad  in  rich  silk. 

Many  were  the  curiosities  which  the  explorers  brought 
home  as  presents  for  the  ladies.  The  Queen  naturally 
had  first  choice,  and  to  her  fell  the  unicorn’s  horn1  valued 


1  Probably  the  horn  of  a  narwhal. 


154  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

at  .£100,000,  which  became  one  of  the  treasures  of 
Windsor.  A  sea-unicorn’s  horn,  presented  by  Martin 
Frobisher,  was  handed  over  to  Mrs.  Scudamore  to  hang 
among  Her  Majesty’s  dresses  as  a  preventative  of  poison. 

Hawkins  affirmed  the  existence  of  land  unicorns  in  the 
forests  of  Florida,  and  from  their  presence  deducted 
abundance  of  lions  because  of  the  traditional  antipathy 
between  the  two  animals,  so  that  where  “the  one  is  the 
other  cannot  be  missing.”  Spenser  described  a  fight  be¬ 
tween  a  lion  and  a  unicorn. 

“  Like  as  a  lyon,  whose  imperiall  powre 
A  prowd  rebellious  unicorne  defies, 

T’Avoide  the  rash  assault  and  wrathful  stowre 
Of  his  fiers  foe,  him  to  a  tree  applies, 

And  when  him  running  in  full  course  he  spies, 

He  slips  aside;  the  whiles  that  furious  beast 
His  precious  home,  sought  of  his  enemies, 

Stikes  in  the  stocke,  ne  thence  can  be  releast, 

But  to  the  mighty  victour  yields  a  bounteous  feast.” 

Not  always  could  unicorns  “be  betray’d  with  trees,”1 
and  though  jewellers  were  credited  with  great  daring  in 
their  endeavours  to  get  the  precious  horn,  they  were 
sometimes  betrayed  by  the  unicorn,  as  one  traveller 

claimed  to  have  witnessed  : 

“as  I  once  did  see, 

In  my  young  travels  through  Armenia 
An  angry  unicorn  in  his  full  career 
Charge  with  too  swift  a  foot  a  jeweller 
That  watcht  him  for  the  treasure  of  his  brow; 

And,  ere  he  could  get  shelter  of  a  tree, 

Nail  him  with  his  rich  antler  to  the  earth.”2 

1  Julius  Ccesar ,  II,  I. 

2  Bussy  d’Amboise ,  Geo.  Chapman. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  155 

Fiercest,  proudest,  least  tamable  of  beasts,  travellers 
declared  that  the  sight  of  a  pure  virgin  reduced  the  most 
savage  unicorn  to  instant  docility.  On  her  lap  would  he 
lay  his  head  with  its  priceless  horn,  when  hunters  could 
approach  and  secure  him  without  danger  to  themselves. 

By  strategy,  too,  might  pursuing  tigers  be  circumvented, 
for  assuredly  would  they  halt  to  behold  their  own  re¬ 
flexions  if  mirrors  were  left  behind.  Looking-glasses,  in¬ 
deed,  were  invaluable  when  dealing  with  strange  beasts. 
The  man  who  met  a  baleful  basilisk1  and  had  no  mirror 
was  lost,  for  its  glance  meant  death.  If  he  had  a  mirror, 
and  retained  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  use  it,  he  held 
it  up  so  that  the  basilisk,  beholding  its  own  refleXion, 
instantly  expired. 

Stout-hearted  mariners  knew  an  equally  effeXive 
method  of  defeating  the  designs  of  mournful  crocodiles, 
who  cried  and  sobbed  “like  any  Christian  body,”  till  sym¬ 
pathetic  listeners  drew  near  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  such 
distress.  The  crocodile,  watchful  of  opportunity,  seized 
the  inexperienced  traveller  and  devoured  him,  weeping. 
An  old  hand,  knowing  the  crocodile  to  be  a  “fearful  ser¬ 
pent,”  abhorring  all  manner  of  noise,  especially  “the 
strained  voice  of  a  man,”2  shouted  for  all  he  was  worth,  at 
the  same  time  winking  incessantly  with  his  left  eye  whilst 
“looking  steadfastly  upon  him  with  his  right  eye.”  This 

1  Basilisk  or  Cockatrice,  hatched  by  a  serpent  from  a  cock’s  egg. 

“come,  basilisk, 

And  kill  the  innocent  gazer  with  thy  sight.” 

2  King  Henry  VI,  III,  2. 

2  The  History  of  Serpents,  Ed.  Topsel,  1607. 


156  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

combined  treatment  could  be  relied  on  to  put  the  most 
lachrymose  crocodile  to  flight. 

“Crocodiles’  tears,  Crocodiles’  tears,”  jeered  the  Cour¬ 
tiers  when  Maids  of  Honour  made  pretended  penitence, 
for  “as  the  crocodile  when  he  crieth  goeth  then  about 
most  to  deceive,  so  doth  a  woman  most  commonly  when 
she  weepeth.”1 

Stung  to  retaliative  similitude,  the  ladies  retorted  that 
rude  young  men  needed  licking  into  shape,  as  female  bears 
licked  their  formless  cubs  into  semblance  of  their  parents.2 

Equally  proverbial  were  the  miraculous  doings  of  the 
pelican  who  revived  its  young  with  its  own  life  blood;  or 
the  phoenix,  “the  bird  of  wonder,”  which  lived  for  hun¬ 
dreds  of  years,  and  after  self-immolation  rose  rejuvenated 
from  its  own  ashes. 

Horrible  were  the  accounts  of 

“The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 

Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders.”3 

Equally  intimidating  were  the  Monocelli,  who  had  but 
one  foot  apiece,  but  of  such  bigness  that  it  afforded  them 
adequate  shelter  from  the  sun,  when  they  lay  on  their 
backs  with  their  “one  onely  foote”  over  their  heads. 
Worst  of  all  was  the  mantechore,  “which  runneth  swiftly 

1  Navigations  of  Hakluyt,  2nd  voyage,  John  Hawkins. 

2  Bears  were  thought  to  bring  forth  their  young  as  shapeless 
lumps  of  flesh  which  the  mothers  licked  into  shape  with  their 
tongues.  “Like  to  a  chaos,  or  unlick’d  bear-whelp 

That  carries  no  impression  like  the  dam.” 

3  King  Henry  VI,  III,  2. 


3  Othello,  I,  3. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  157 

and  eateth  men.”  Travellers  fearsomely  particularized 
this  monster  as  having  the  head  of  a  man  with  three  rows 
of  teeth  in  each  jaw,  the  body  of  a  bear,  legs  of  a  lion, 
tail  of  a  scorpion,  and  voice  of  a  trumpet. 

Even  on  board  their  own  ships  the  intrepid  explorers 
were  by  no  means  safe  from  the  lures 

“Of  mermaids  that  the  southern  seas  do  haunt.”1 

Singing  songs,  they  followed  the  ships,  being  “glad  and 
merry  in  a  tempest  but  sad  and  heavy  in  fair  weather.” 
With  eyes  averted  and  ears  plugged,  fearful  mariners  drove 
their  good  ship  straight  ahead  to  escape  the  fair  sirens 
who  lured  them  to  destruction.  Mirrors  in  this  case  were 
of  no  avail,  but  a  frantic  hurling  overboard  of  empty 
bottles  sometimes  proved  effedtive,  causing  the  mermaids 
to  play  with  such  novelties  and  enable  the  ship  to  get 
away. 

Equally  dreaded  was  the  sea  serpent,  whose  terrible 
appearance  and  unattradfive  habits  were  familiar  to  all: 

“He  hath  commonly  hair  hanging  from  his  neck  a  cubit 
long,  and  sharp  scales  and  is  black,  and  he  hath  flameling 
shining  eyes.  This  snake  disquiets  the  shippers,  and  he 
puts  up  his  head  like  a  pillar,  and  catcheth  away  men.”2 

Very  earnestly  did  the  good  people  at  home  desire  to 
behold  some  of  these  wonders  with  their  own  eyes.  Show- 

1  Hall’s  Satires. 

“I’ll  drown  more  sailors  than  the  mermaid  shall; 

I’ll  slay  more  gazers  than  the  basilisk.” 

3  King  Henry  VI,  III,  2. 

2  Olaus  Magnus  (Hist.  Goths  and  Swedes). 


158  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

men  who  had  booths  in  Fleet  Street  would  give  much 
money  for  curiosities,  real  or  faked.  The  sailor  who  could 
bring  home  a  monster  was  a  made  man: 

“A  strange  fish!  Were  I  in  England  now,  as  once  I  was, 
and  had  but  this  fish  painted,  not  a  holiday  fool  there  but 
would  give  a  piece  of  silver:  there  would  this  monster 
make  a  man;  any  strange  beast  there  makes  a  man.  When 
they  will  not  give  a  doit  to  relieve  a  lame  beggar,  they  will 
lay  out  ten  to  see  a  dead  Indian.”1 

1  The  Tempest,  II,  2. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THOUGH  the  exploits  of  the  explorers  did  much 
to  enhance  the  prestige  of  English  seamanship, 
they  undoubtedly  led  to  strained  relations  with 
Spain,  who  regarded  their  boldest  exploits  as  sheer  acts  of 
piracy.  Bernardino  de  Mendoza,  the  Spanish  Ambassador, 
adting  on  instrudfions  from  King  Philip,  went  down  to  see 
Elizabeth  at  Richmond,  with  a  plain  request  that  she 
would  restore  the  plunder  Drake  had  taken  from  Spanish 
treasure  ships.  The  Queen  in  pained  surprise  said  it  was 
the  first  she  had  heard  of  the  matter;  nor  would  depart 
from  ignorance,  though  Mendoza  assured  her  that  he  had 
himself  been  telling  her  of  it  for  the  past  three  and  a  half 
years.  With  cynical  skill  the  Spaniard  worked  Elizabeth 
into  a  white  heat  of  fury,  by  hinting  that  if  she  remained 
obdurately  deaf  it  might  be  necessary  to  see  if  the  roar  of 
Spanish  cannon  could  improve  her  defedtive  hearing. 
Having  conveyed  the  hint  and  set  Elizabeth  hedloring,  he 
waived  the  matter  as  not  worth  disputing  with  “ a  lady  so 
beautiful  that  even  lions  would  crouch  before  her.”1  “She 
is  so  vain  and  flighty  that  her  anger  was  soothed  at  hearing 
this,”  wrote  the  ambassador  in  his  account  of  the  inter¬ 
view,  when  he  referred  to  Elizabeth  not  as  lion  taming 
lady,  but  a  “rusty  old  weather  cock”  veering  with  every 
breeze. 

The  breach  between  the  two  nations  widened,  and  dis- 

1  Calendar  Spanish  State  Papers ,  1580-6. 
i59 


160  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

quieting  news  reached  England  of  the  mighty  Armada 
which  Philip  of  Spain  was  preparing  with  a  view  to  in¬ 
vading  his  sister-in-law’s  country.  Sir  Francis  Drake,  with 
Elizabeth’s  sandlion,  sailed  southward,  burnt  the  ships  in 
Cadiz  Harbour,  captured  one  of  the  largest  treasure  ships, 
and  returned  home  triumphantly  boasting  that  he  had 
singed  the  King  of  Spain’s  whiskers. 

King  Philip,  enraged  but  not  intimidated,  went  on 
with  his  preparations,  and  it  soon  became  evident  that  the 
terrible  Armada  was  no  vague  threat,  but  a  very  imme¬ 
diate  menace.  England  made  adtive  preparation  for  de¬ 
fence,  and  the  city  of  London  was  called  on  to  state  its 
resources.  The  Lord  Mayor,  as  spokesman,  replied  with  a 
counter-question  of  how  much  was  expedted.  “Five  thou¬ 
sand  men  and  fifteen  ships,”  came  the  reply,  which  the 
city  answered  by  volunteering  to  provide  ten  thousand 
men  and  thirty  ships. 

The  provinces  were  no  whit  behind  the  capital  in  offers 
of  assistance  at  so  critical  a  time.  Sir  Edward  Fitton  of 
Gawsworth  wrote  in  haste  to  Lord  Burleigh: 

“My  very  good  Lord,  being  extreme  sicke  in  my  bed, 
and  hearing  the  styre  and  the  news  about  the  southe 
partes,  I  have  entreated  this  bearer,  my  cousen  Bould,who 
acknowledgeth  himselfe  most  bounde  to  your  lordship,  to 
lett  your  Lordship  know,  that  at  your  lordship’s  pleasure 
I  will  send  to  your  Lordship  two  hundred  able  men,  and 
if  I  be  able  to  lyve,  will  bring  them.  I  presume  to  write 
this  because  other  Lords  send  all  their  servants;  and,  my 
Lord,  if  your  Lordship  lust  to  wryte,  a  number  of  my  kyn 
and  friends  have  sayd,  they  will  be  at  your  command. 
Thus,  being  sicke  in  my  bed,  and  so  having  been  this  three 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  161 

weeks,  I  humbly  take  my  leave.  Gawsworth  this  8th  of 
August  1588.  Your  lordship’s  during  my  lyfe. 

Ed.  Phyton.1 

Our  furniture  generally  is  bowes,  jacks,  and  bylies.” 

Lord  Howard  of  Effingham,  the  Lord  Admiral,  had 
command  of  the  fleet,  taking  with  him  his  son-in-law,  Sir 
Robert  Southwell,  and  having  the  assistance  of  such  ex¬ 
perienced  seamen  as  Drake,  Hawkins  and  Frobisher.  The 
“English  gentry  of  the  younger  sort”  offered  themselves 
as  volunteers,  and  “taking  leave  of  their  parents,  wives, 
and  children,  did  with  incredible  cheerfulness,  hire  ships 
at  their  own  charge,  and,  in  pure  love  to  their  country, 
joined  the  grand  fleet  in  vast  numbers.”2  In  the  hour  of 
peril  England  trusted  her  navy: 

“  Let  us  be  back’d  with  God  and  with  the  seas 
Which  he  hath  given  for  fence  impregnable, 

And  with  their  helps  only  defend  ourselves  : 

In  them  and  in  ourselves  our  safety  lies.”3 

At  the  palace  all  was  excitement:  the  Queen  prepared 
a  prayer  to  be  used  in  the  churches;  courtiers  exchanged 
their  gay  habits  for  clanking  armour;  ladies  stitched 
favours  and  banners.  There  were  many  leave-takings  in 
the  privy  gardens,  for  the  sudden  shock  of  national  danger 
caused  many  young  people  to  realize  the  depth  of  their 
own  feelings  towards  each  other. 

Day  after  day  came  the  noise  of  men  marching,  as  levies 

1  Edward  Fitton,  of  Gawsworth,  Cheshire,  Lord  President  of 
Munster,  m.  Alice,  d.  of  Sir  John  Holcroft  (sister  of  Isabel  Hol- 
croft).  Sir  Edward’s  daughter,  Mary,  came  to  Court  as  Maid  of 
Honour  a  few  years  later.  2  Camden. 

8  3rd  Part  King  Henry  VI,  Act  IV,  Scene  1. 

M 


162  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

from  the  country  passed  through  London  on  their  way  to 
join  the  Army  at  Tilbury.  To  provide  for  the  feeding  of 
so  many  extra  people,  and  prevent  a  sudden  rise  in  prices, 
the  Privy  Council  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Lord  Mayor, 

“requiring  him  to  take  order  with  the  bakers,  brewers,  and 
all  other  victuallers  in  and  about  the  cittie  that  they  make 
forthwith  an  extraordinary  provision  of  all  sorts  of  vic- 
tualles  against  the  repair  thereto  of  certain  nombers  of 
horsemen  and  footmen  appointed  to  garde  her  majestie’s 
person,  so  as  by  his  lordship’s  care  there  be  no  scarcetie  or 
lacke,  and  to  avoid  exa£!ion  or  enhansment  of  prices  more 
then  is  cause,  to  appoint  certain  aldermen  to  have  charge 
of  the  ordering  and  containinge  of  prices  of  victualles 
within  a  competent  and  reasonable  rate.”1 

Elizabeth, though  fifty-five  years  of  age,  was  aflame  with 
military  ardour,  and  desirous  of  riding  at  the  head  of  her 
Army  to  repel  the  invaders.  This  the  Privy  Council  would 
not  hear  of,  and  enlisted  the  services  of  Leicester,  the 
Commander-in-Chief,  who  in  an  adroit  letter  of  negation, 
spiced  with  flattery,  managed  to  combat  the  embarrassing 
suggestion. 

If  Elizabeth  might  not  lead  her  Army  into  battle  as 
former  Kings  had  done,  she  would  at  least  inspect  it  in 
person,  and  taking  her  eager  ladies  went  down  by  barge 
to  the  camp  at  Tilbury.  Ballad-singers  lusciously  described 
the  event  for  the  benefit  of  rustic  audiences: 

“Then  came  the  Queen,  on  prancing  steed,  attired  like  an  angel 
bright; 

And  eight  brave  footmen  at  her  feet  whose  jerkins  were  most 
rich  in  sight. 

1  Acts  of  the  Privy  Council,  July  28th,  1588. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  163 

Her  ladies,  likewise  of  great  honour,  most  sumptuously  did  wait 
upon  her, 

With  pearls  and  diamonds  brave  adorned,  and  costly  combs  of 
gold: 

Her  Guards,  in  scarlet,  then  rode  after,  with  bowes  and  arrows, 
stout  and  bold.”1 

The  Maids  of  Honour  were  eager-eyed  for  the  sights  of 
the  camp,  and  even  more  so  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  im¬ 
portant  young  officers  who  had  been  their  companions  at 
masques  and  dances  such  a  short  time  since.  They  had 
hoped  to  be  present  when  the  Queen  reviewed  the  troops, 
but  in  this  they  were  disappointed,  as  Elizabeth  decided  to 
go  alone.  The  ladies  decked  out  their  mistress  in  one  of  her 
most  magnificent  dresses,  over  which,  to  show  a  martial 
spirit,  she  donned  a  corselet  of  polished  steel.  As  the  white- 
plumed  helmet  proved  both  uncomfortable  and  unbe¬ 
coming,  she  rode  forth  bareheaded,  and  it  was  carried 
behind  by  a  page. 

Maids  of  Honour  watched  from  upstairs  windows,  as 
the  Queen,  mounted  on  an  imposing  charger,  cantered  off 
with  the  Earl  of  Leicester  in  the  direction  of  the  camp, 
where  a  roar  of  applause  announced  her  arrival.  Later  on 
in  the  afternoon  the  royal  party  left  Tilbury  and  returned 
to  St.  James’s  Palace,  where  days  of  tense  excitement  were 
passed. 

To  keep  the  country  informed  of  the  trend  of  events 
during  such  a  critical  time,  Elizabeth  and  her  ministers 
issued  a  newspaper  called  The  English  Mer curie"1  which 

1  Ballad  on  the  Armada,  by  T.  Delony  (printed  in  Arber’s 
English  Garner ). 

2  A  copy  of  this,  the  earliest  newspaper, is  in  the  British  Museum. 


164  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

informed  a  trembling  nation  “that  the  Spanish  Armada 
was  seen  on  the  20th  ult.  in  the  chops  of  the  Channel, 
making  for  its  entrance  with  a  favourable  gale.” 

Watchers  on  the  coast  kept  keen-eyed  vigilance,  till  at 
length  off  the  Lizard 

“the  English  descried  the  Spanish  ships,  with  lofty  turrets, 
like  castles,  in  front  like  a  half-moon,  the  wings  thereof 
spreading  out  about  the  length  of  seven  miles,  sailing  very 
slowly,  though  with  full  sails,  the  winds  being,  as  it  were, 
tired  with  carrying  them,  and  the  ocean  groaning  with  the 
weight  of  them.”1 

That  night  a  chain  of  bonfires  flared  from  hill-top  to 
hill-top,  and  from  Land’s  End  to  John  o’  Groats  folk  slept 
uneasy  in  their  beds,  nor  knew  what  the  morrow  might 
bring  forth.  So  long  had  the  Armada  been  talked  of,  so 
greatly  feared,  that  the  Maids  of  Honour  had  scared 
faces  as  they  undressed  that  night  in  their  dormitory.  A 
wild  night  it  proved,  too,  and  those  who  had  lovers  in  the 
brave  little  fleet  which  had  gone  out  to  challenge  the 
mighty  Armada  tossed  sleepless  as  the  storm  rose  in 
fury. 

Mire-bespattered  messengers  clattered  up  to  London 
with  despatches  for  the  Queen,  and  the  news  they 
brought  seemed  incredible  in  its  good  tidings.  The  great 
Spanish  Armada  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  ships,  broken, 
defeated,  ignominously  chased  by  the  English  fleet  of 
eighty  small  ships.  True  it  proved.  Later  reports  only 
brought  confirmation;  church  bells,  throughout  the  land 
chimed  the  joyful  tidings  that  England  was  saved. 

1  Camden. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  165 

The  Queen  went  in  state  to  St.  Paul’s  to  give  public 
thanksgiving,  and  in  honour  of  a  naval  victory  the  streets 
were  decorated  with  blue  cloth.  The  city  companies  lined 
one  side  of  the  road,  and  gentlemen  of  the  Inns  of  Court 
the  opposite.  Elizabeth  rode  in  a  triumphal  coach,  fronted 
by  a  lion  and  dragon  supporting  the  Arms  of  England, 
and  four  pillars  upheld  a  canopy  in  the  shape  of  an 
imperial  crown.  Following  came  the  ladies,  and  after 
them  a  long  procession  of  gentlemen. 

Cheering,  cheering  all  the  way.  Graciously  the  Queen 
acknowledged  the  acclamations;  gracefully  the  Maids  of 
Honour  bent  their  heads,  first  to  those  on  one  side  of  the 
road,  then  to  those  on  the  other.  “Mark  the  Courtiers,” 
said  Francis  Bacon  standing  with  the  lawyers;  “those 
who  bow  first  to  the  citizens  are  in  debt;  those  who  bow 
first  to  us  are  at  law.” 

Elizabeth  held  her  warriors  in  high  esteem,  but  the 
Earl  of  Leicester  transcended  them  all,  so  that  she  would 
have  made  him  lord  lieutenant  of  England  and  Ireland, 
had  not  Lord  Burleigh’s  strong  representations  hindered 
such  an  unprecedented  step.  Leicester,  greatly  annoyed 
at  the  interference,  left  the  Court  in  anger,  intending  to 
retire  to  his  castle  at  Kenilworth.  The  next  news  that 
came  to  hand  was  that  he  died  suddenly  at  Cornbury  in 
Oxfordshire. 

Leicester  dead!  The  tidings  flew  hot-winged,  yet  few 
would  credit  the  report.  He  so  virile,  so  powerful;  it 
seemed  incredible.  He  died  of  a  fever  contracted  in 
camp,  the  physicians  said,  but  so  tame  an  ending  for  so 
great  a  man  could  not  pass  current,  and  rumour  with  a 


1 66  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

busy  tongue  supplied  several  highly  garnished  versions  of 
his  death. 

The  differences  between  the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  his 
wife  were  common  property,  so  that  the  country  gener¬ 
ally  favoured  the  story  that  Leicester  had  prepared  a 
poisoned  draught  for  Lettice,  “which  he  willed  her  to  use 
in  any  faintness.”  She,  not  suspecting  its  properties,  gave 
him  a  drink  of  the  supposed  cordial  when  he  came  to 
Cornbury,  and  of  the  results  whereof  he  died. 

At  Court  the  great  question  was  how  the  news  would 
affedf  the  Queen,  and  in  truth  she  took  it  very  hardly. 
Lover  of  her  youth,  and  friend  of  many  years,  Leicester 
occupied  a  place  in  Elizabeth’s  affedlions  that  no  other 
could  wholly  replace.  In  her  at  least  he  had  one  true 
mourner  if  the  Spanish  Ambassador  reported  true: 

“The  Queen  is  sorry  for  his  death,  but  no  other  person 
in  the  country.  She  was  so  grieved  that  for  some  days  she 
shut  herself  in  her  chamber  alone,  and  refused  to  speak 
to  anyone  until  the  Treasurer  and  other  councillors  had 
the  door  broken  open  and  entered  to  see  her.”1 


1  Calendar  of  Spanish  State  Papers. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH  and  the  Earl  of  Essex 
contested  with  zest,  embittered  by  enmity,  for  the 
vacant  position  of  chief  favourite.  They  were 
hereditary  antagonists  so  to  speak,  for  Leicester  had 
brought  his  young  stepson  to  Court  with  the  avowed  hope 
of  counteracting  the  Queen’s  infatuation  for  Raleigh. 
At  first  the  boy  made  little  headway  against  the  older 
man,  but  gradually  his  “goodly  person”  and  “innate 
courtesy”  made  their  impression.  Elizabeth  began  to  take 
obvious  delight  in  his  company:  “When  she  is  abroade, 
no  boddy  neare  her  but  my  Lord  of  Essex;  and  at  night 
my  Lord  is  at  cards,  or  one  game  or  another  with  her,  that 
he  cometh  not  to  his  owne  lodginge  tyll  birds  sing  in  the 
morninge.”1 

Raleigh’s  star  waned  in  consequence,  so  that  a  year  after 
the  Armada  Essex’s  friends  triumphantly  reported  that 
he  had  chased  Sir  Walter  away  from  the  Court.  Raleigh 
took  the  opportunity  to  go  over  to  his  house  at  Youghal 
in  Ireland,  where  he  interested  himself  in  cultivating 
the  sweet  potato  which  the  explorers  had  brought  from 
America.  He  likewise  astonished  Irishmen  by  an  even  more 
surprising  innovation — tobacco.  Raleigh  had  been  one 
of  the  first  converts  to  the  new  fashion,  having  long¬ 
stemmed  pipes  with  silver  bowls  especially  made  for 
presentation  among  his  friends  at  Court. 

In  Ireland  Raleigh  met  Edmund  Spenser,  the  first 

1  Bagot  Memorials. 

167 


1 68  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

three  books  of  whose  poem,  The  Faerie  Queene ,  he  read 
with  appreciative  pleasure.  Greatly  he  heartened  the 
poet  by  foretelling  the  delight  which  the  work  must  give 
to  Elizabeth  and  all  her  Court,  so  that  when  Sir  Walter 
returned  to  England  Spenser  accompanied  him  bearing 
his  precious  manuscript.  Elizabeth,  glad  to  have  Sir  Walter 
back,  readily  agreed  to  receive  his  friend,  who  in  verse 
declared  the  Faerie  Queene’s  magnificence  exceeded  his 
imagination. 

“Untill  that  we  to  Cynthiae’s  presence  came: 

Whose  glorie  greater  than  my  simple  thought, 

I  found  much  greater  then  the  former  fame. 

Such  greatnes  I  cannot  compare  to  ought; 

But  if  I  like  ought  on  earth  might  read, 

I  would  her  lyken  to  a  crowne  of  lillies 
Upon  a  virgin  bryde’s  adorned  head, 

With  Roses  dight,  and  Goolds,  and  Daffodillies; 

Or  like  the  circlet  of  a  Turtle  true, 

In  which  all  colours  of  the  rainbow  bee; 

Or  like  fair  Phebe’s  garland  shining  new, 

In  which  all  pure  perfection  one  may  see. 

But  vaine  it  is  to  think,  by  paragon 
Of  earthly  things,  to  judge  of  things  divine; 

Her  power,  her  mercy,  her  wisedome,  none 
Can  deeme,  but  who,  the  Godhead  can  define.” 

Great  “Gloriana”  was  undoubtedly  pleased  at  the 
compliments  paid  to  her  in  The  Faerie  Queene ,  but 
she  did  not  give  the  poet  the  material  rewards  which  he 
confidently  anticipated  would  be  his  mead.  Sir  Walter 
had  represented  his  mistress  as  one  “whose  grace  was 
great,  and  bounty  most  rewardful.”  Spenser  admitted 
the  former,  but  found  the  latter  strangely  lacking. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  169 

Eventually  he  received  a  pension  of  £50,  but  not  the 
official  appointment  he  had  so  earnestly  hoped  might 
enable  him  to  live  in  England.  Bitterly  disillusioned,  he 
returned  to  Ireland,  and  in  Mother  Hubberd? s  Tale 
summed  up  the  humiliating  disappointments  incidental 
to  those  seeking  patronage  at  Court: 

“Full  little  knowest  thou  that  hast  not  tried 

What  hell  it  is  in  suing  long  to  bide; 

To  lose  good  dayes,  that  might  be  better  spent; 

To  waste  long  nights  in  pensive  discontent; 

To  spend  to  day,  to  be  put  back  to  morrow; 

To  feed  on  hope,  to  pine  with  feare  and  sorrow; 

To  have  thy  Princes’  grace,  yet  want  her  Peeres; 

To  have  thy  asking,  yet  waite  manie  yeeres; 

To  fret  thy  soule  with  crosses  and  with  cares; 

To  eat  thy  heart  through  comfortless  dispaires; 

To  spend,  to  give,  to  wait,  to  be  undonne. 

Unhappie  wight,  bore  to  desastrous  end, 

That  doth  his  life  in  so  long  tendance  spend.” 

Raleigh  suffered  none  of  these  slights,  for  he  belonged 
to  the  charmed  inner  circle  immediately  surrounding 
the  Queen.  In  the  sumptuous  private  apartments  of  the 
Palace,  Sir  Walter  and  the  Earl  of  Essex  jealously  paid 
homage  at  the  shrine  of  “great  Gloriana,”  a  sprightly, 
bewigged,  bejewelled,  well-got-up  woman,  with  the 
intellect  of  a  man  and  the  vanity  of  a  girl.  As  the  two  men 
knelt  beside  the  pile  of  gaily  hued  cushions  on  which  their 
liege  lady  reclined,  they  could  not  refrain  from  casting 
stealthy  glances  at  the  pretty  white  clad  Maids  of  Honour 
singing  to  their  lutes  or  virginals.  One  of  their  favourite 
songs  was  Christopher  Marlowe’s  “The  Passionate 


170  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Shepherd  to  his  Love,”  to  which  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  had 
composed  the  sophisticated  lady’s  reply  to  the  country 
delights  offered  her: 

“If  all  the  world  and  love  were  young, 

And  truth  in  every  shepherd’s  tongue, 

These  pretty  pleasures  might  me  move 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love. 

But  time  drives  flocks  from  field  to  fold 
When  rivers  rage  and  rocks  grow  cold; 

And  Philomel  becometh  dumb; 

The  rest  complains  of  cares  to  come. 

The  flowers  fade,  and  wanton  fields 
To  wayward  winter  reckoning  yields. 

A  honey  tongue  a  heart  of  gall 
Is  fancy’s  spring,  but  sorrow’s  fall. 

Thy  gowns,  thy  shoes,  thy  beds  of  roses, 

Thy  cap,  thy  kirtle,  and  thy  posies, 

Soon  break,  soon  wither,  soon  forgotten, 

In  folly  ripe,  in  reason  rotten. 

Thy  belt  of  straw  and  ivy  buds 
Thy  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs, — 

All  those  in  me  no  means  can  move 
To  come  to  thee  and  be  thy  love. 

But  could  youLh  last,  and  love  still  lived; 

Had  joys  no  date,  nor  age  no  need 
Then  those  delights  my  mind  might  move 
To  live  with  t  hee  and  be  thy  love.” 

Sir  Walter’s  heart  thrilled  when  he  heard  Elizabeth 
Throckmorton’s  voice  lilt  in  the  cadence  of  his  song,  for 
as  he  made  silver-tongued  flattery  to  the  Queen,  his 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  171 

thoughts  were  more  and  more  with  the  young  Maid  of 
Honour. 

Elizabeth  Throckmorton  would  veil  her  soft  eyes,  when 
Sir  Walter’s  bold  one  sought  to  plumb  their  depths  for 
the  secret  she  fain  would  hide.  In  Court,  out  of  Court, 
during  progresses,  pageants,  dances  or  plays,  Sir  Walter’s 
place  was  near  the  Queen  when  he  fain  would  have  been 
by  Elizabeth  Throckmorton. 

The  two,  having  come  to  a  mutual  understanding  of 
their  feelings  towards  each  other,  contrived  to  meet 
whenever  circumstances  would  permit.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
Captain  of  the  Guard  and  avowedly  high  in  Her  Majesty’s 
favour,  might  not  show  open  preference  for  a  lady  of  the 
privy  chamber,  but  there  were  many  places  in  the  Palace 
grounds  where  a  man  and  a  maid  might  contrive  stolen 
meetings.  The  gardener,  in  his  potting-shed  at  the  end  of 
the  open  gallery  at  Richmond,  could  an  he  would,  have 
told  how  often  two  very  well-known  people  at  the  Court 
were  in  each  other’s  company.  Together  Walter  Raleigh 
and  Elizabeth  Throckmorton  paced  the  thickly  foliaged 
pleached  alleys  in  the  orchard,  or  halted  by  the  dove-cot 
where  soft-breasted  birds  crooned  amorous  cuckoo-oo-oo. 

The  privy  garden,  with  its  formal  knots  and  borders 
so  dear  to  the  gardener’s  heart,  was  too  public  a  place 
for  the  Queen’s  favourite  and  Maid  of  Honour  to 
frequent;  rather  they  preferred  the  winding  by-paths 
bordered  with  sun-blown  marigolds,  leading  down  to  the 
river.  Sitting  on  the  grassy  bank,  on  summer  days  when 
the  sunlight  danced  in  the  water,  and  little  ships  with 
ruddy  sails  plied  up  and  down  the  river,  the  lovers  talked 
of  the  future.  Halcyon  hours,  passing  all  too  quickly, 


172  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

yet  remaining  treasured  among  the  jewels  of  memory, 
to  be  recalled  in  darker  years,  when  Sir  Walter  wrote  to 
his  wife,  as  one  “that  chose  you  and  loved  you  in  his 
happiest  time.” 

The  lovers  knew  full  well  that  they  lived  in  peril  of 
discovery;  should  an  enemy  carry  tidings  of  their  meetings 
to  the  Queen,  then  in  very  deed  would  a  storm  arise  to 
overwhelm  them.  The  anticipated  thunder-clap  came 
suddenly,  on  the  eve  of  Raleigh’s  departure  on  a  voyage. 

Long  had  the  lure  of  undiscovered  lands  called  him; 
deeply  did  he  long  to  feel  the  salt  spray  of  the  sea  on  his 
face  as  a  good  ship  ploughed  its  way  across  the  ocean. 
Over  and  over  again  had  he  sought  permission  to  join  in 
some  enterprise,  but  Elizabeth’s  fondness  stood  in  the 
way.  Philip  Sidney’s  death  had  forged  tighter  chains  for 
succeeding  favourites,  for  where  the  Queen  loved  she 
sought  to  screen  from  danger.  Raleigh  combated  her 
affe&ion  by  avarice,  representing  the  richness  of  the 
treasure  which  after  a  few  short  months’  absence  he 
would  assuredly  bring  back  to  lay  at  her  feet.  At  length  he 
obtained  reluctant  permission,  and  in  all  jubilation 
hastened  down  to  Chatham  to  make  preparations  for 
departure. 

Court  seemed  dull  without  Sir  Walter,  insupportably 
so  Elizabeth  found  it,  and  she  despatched  a  messenger 
bidding  him  return  to  her  side.  Before  he  could  obey  the 
summons,  the  Queen’s  love  had  changed  suddenly  to 
hate,  consequent  on  the  discovery  that  Elizabeth  Throck¬ 
morton  had  more  serious  reason  to  bewail  Raleigh’s 
absence  than  herself. 


Coll,  cf  Lord  Sac :kvil le 

ELIZABETH  THROCKMORTON,  LADY  RALEIGH 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  173 

Sir  Walter  heard  of  his  peril  at  Chatham,  and  in  a 
panic  of  fear  wrote  to  Sir  Robert  Cecil: 

“I  mean  not  to  come  away,  as  they  say  I  will,  for  fear 
of  a  marriage,  and  I  know  not  what.  If  any  such  thing 
there  were,  I  would  have  imparted  it  to  yourself,  before 
any  man  living,  and  therefore,  I  pray,  believe  it  not,  and 
I  beseech  you  to  suppress,  what  you  can,  any  such 
malicious  report.  For  I  protest  before  God  there  is  none 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  that  I  would  be  fastened  to.”1 

Denial  proved  useless  in  face  of  supportable  fadls, 
and  the  angry  Queen  sent  both  parties  off  to  the  Tower. 
Elizabeth  Throckmorton,  with  the  ordeal  of  child-birth 
hanging  over  her,  accepted  imprisonment  with  resigna¬ 
tion.  She  even  found  extenuation  for  Sir  Walter’s  denial, 
on  the  plea  that  “if  faith  were  broken  with  me,  I  was 
yet  far  away.” 

Very  differently  behaved  Sir  Walter,  whose  active 
nature  could  ill  brook  the  restraints  of  prison  life.  Having 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  Queen’s  temperament,  coupled 
with  assurance  that  all  he  said  or  did  would  reach  her 
ears,  he  made  theatrical  display  of  frenzied  love.  As  the 
Queen’s  barge  passed  slowly  by  the  Tower,  Sir  Walter 
wrestled  with  his  keeper,  vowing  his  intention  of  jumping 
into  the  river  in  order  to  swim  out  to  his  adored  mistress. 

Indicative  of  his  extreme  despair  on  hearing  Elizabeth 
intended  to  leave  town  for  a  progress  into  the  country, 
he  wrote  to  Sir  Robert  Cecil: 

“My  heart  was  never  broken  till  this  day,  that  I  hear 
the  Queen  goes  away  so  far  off — whom  I  have  followed  in 

1  Printed  in  Letters  of  Sir  W.  Raleigh,  E.  Edwards. 


174  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

so  many  journeys,  and  am  now  left  behind  in  a  dark  prison 
all  alone.  While  she  was  nire  at  hand,  that  I  might  hear  of 
her  once  in  two  or  three  dayes,  my  sorrows  were  the 
less;  but  even  now  my  heart  is  cast  into  the  depths  of  all 
misery.  I  that  was  wont  to  behold  her  riding  like  Alex¬ 
ander,  hunting  like  Diana,  walking  like  Venus,  the  gentle 
wind  blowing  her  fair  hair  about  her  pure  cheeks,  like  a 
nymph:  sometimes  singing  like  an  angell:  sometimes 
playing  like  Orpheus.  Behold  the  sorrows  of  this  world! 
Once  amiss  hath  bereaved  me  of  all.”1 

Even  this  imaginative  catalogue  of  his  mistress’s  charms 
did  not  open  the  prison  doors  for  Sir  Walter,  who  in  his 
daily  exercise  regarded  the  inmates  of  the  Tower 
menagerie  with  fellow  feelings.  After  watching  the  old 
on  “Edward  VI”  pace  stiffly  up  and  down  his  cage,  and  as 
slack-muscled  tiger  yawning  for  sheer  ennui,  Sir  Walter 
wrote  despondingly  to  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham  that 
if  freedom  were  denied  him  it  would  save  trouble  to  use 
his  body  to  feed  the  lions. 

Raleigh’s  friends  did  all  they  could  to  secure  mitigation 
of  his  punishment.  Edmund  Spenser  in  a  new  canto  of 
The  Faerie  Queene  described  the  loves  of  Timias 
(Sir  Walter  Raleigh),  for  Amoret  (Elizabeth  Throck¬ 
morton),  with  the  consequent  discovery  by  Belphoebe 
(the  Queen): 

“Thence  she  them  brought  towards  the  place  where  late 
She  left  the  gentle  squire  with  Amoret: 

There  she  him  found  by  that  new  lovely  mate, 

Who  lay  the  whiles  in  swoune,  full  sadly  set, 

From  her  faire  eyes  wiping  the  deawy  wet, 

1  Murdin’s  State  Papers. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  175 

Which  softly  stild,  and  kissing  them  atweene, 

And  handling  soft  the  hurts,  which  she  did  get. 

For  of  that  Carle  she  sorely  bruz’d  had  beene, 

Als  of  his  own  rash  hand  one  wound  was  to  be  seene. 

Which  when  she  saw,  with  sodaine  glauncing  eye, 

Her  noble  heart  with  sight  thereof  was  fild 
With  deepe  disdaine,  and  great  indignity, 

That  in  her  wrath  she  thought  them  both  have  thrild, 

With  that  selfe  arrow,  which  the  Carle  had  kild: 

Yet  held  her  wrathfull  hand  from  vengeance  sore, 

But  drawing  nigh,  ere  he  her  well  beheld; 

Is  this  the  faith,  she  said,  and  said  no  more 
But  turned  her  face,  and  fled  away  for  evermore.”1 

In  the  end  the  Queen  relented  insomuch  that  she 
permitted  Sir  Walter,  his  wife  and  little  son,  to  leave  the 
Tower  for  their  country  house  at  Sherborne.  Amid 
peaceful  rural  surroundings  the  prisoners  took  up  the 
threads  of  life  anew,  sharing  common  interests,  and  grow¬ 
ing  to  know  one  another  with  a  deepening  love.  Sir  Walter 
looked  forward  to  the  time  when  he  would  be  allowed  to 
return  to  Court,  but  Elizabeth,  fully  occupied  with  her 
home  and  garden,  had  no  regret  for  the  gay  life  of  her 
girlhood.  Sir  Walter,  who  still  corresponded  with  Sir 
Robert  Cecil  told  of  her  contentment:  “my  wife  sayes 
that  you  came  hither  in  an  unseasonable  tyme,  and  had 
no  leisure  to  looke  abrode;  and  that  every  day  this  place 
amends,  and  London,  to  her,  grows  worss  and  worss.”2 

1  The  Faerie  Queene,  Book  III,  Canto  VII. 

2  Printed  in  Letters  of  Raleigh,  ed.  E.  Edwards. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


FRANCES  HOWARD,  “for  her  many  graces  both 
of  mind  and  body”1  continued  high  in  the 
Queen’s  regard  after  her  marriage  with  the  Earl  of 
Hertford.  Therefore,  when  making  a  progress  through 
Sussex  and  Hampshire  in  1591,  Elizabeth  announced  her 
intention  of  visiting  “good  Franke”  at  Elvetham. 

Notification  of  the  intended  honour  occasioned  the 
Earl  and  Countess  of  Hertford  no  little  perturbation. 
Elizabeth  was  not  a  visitor  who  would  take  things  as  they 
were;  she  would  undoubtedly  expeft  amusement,  excite¬ 
ment,  rich  presents  and  every  costly  luxury.  Moreover, 
with  her  would  come  several  hundreds  of  persons  who 
must  be  housed  and  fed.  Elvetham,  one  of  the  Earl’s 
smaller  residences,  had  nothing  like  the  required  accom¬ 
modation;  yet  housed  in  some  manner  they  must  be,  so 
builders,  carpenters  and  artificers  were  sent  for  in  all 
haste  to  ereft  extra  buildings  in  the  park. 

Frances  grappled  with  the  problem  of  catering,  aided 
by  experiences  of  past  progresses,  and  spurred  by  the 
knowledge  that  at  Cowdray,  where  the  Court  was  now 
entertained  by  Lord  Montacute,  three  whole  oxen, 
supplemented  by  one  hundred  and  forty  geese,  had  been 
the  provision  for  one  morning’s  breakfast.  Servants  in  the 
Hertford  Every  scoured  the  country  for  eatables,  whilst 

1  On  her  monument  in  St.  Benedict’s  Chapel,  Westminster 
Abbey.  The  Earl  of  Hertford  m.,  3rdly,  Frances  Howard,  d.  of 
Viscount  Bindon. 


176 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  177 

cunning  cooks  from  London  set  laboriously  to  work  to  fill 
the  larders  with  elaborate  confectionery: 

“Her  majestie’s  arms  in  sugar-work. 

The  severall  armes  of  all  our  nobilitie  in  sugar-work. 

Many  men  and  women  in  sugar-work. 

Castles,  forts,  ordinance,  drummers,  trumpeters,  and 
soldiers  of  all  sorts,  in  sugar-worke. 

Lions,  unicorns,  beares,  horses,  camels,  bulls,  rams, 
dogges,  tygers,  elephants,  antelops,  dromedaries,  apes  and 
all  other  beasts,  in  sugar-worke.  Eagles,  falcons,  cranes, 
bustardes,  heronshawes,  bitterns,  pheasants,  partridges, 
quails,  larks,  sparrows,  pigeons,  cocks,  owles,  and  all  that 
fly  in  sugar-worke. 

Snakes,  adders,  vipers,  frogs,  toads,  and  all  kinds  of 
worms  in  sugar-work. 

Mermaids,  whales,  dolphins,  congers,  sturgeons,  pikes, 
carps,  breams,  and  all  sorts  of  fishes  in  sugar-worke.” 

Besides  these  standing  dishes,  there  were  marchpane 
delicacies  of  sugared  almond  in  “flat  work”;  “grapes, 
muscles,  cockles,  periwinkles,  crabs,  lobsters,  apples, 
pears  and  plums  of  all  sorts,  preserves,  suckats,  jellies, 
leaches,  marmelats,  pasts,  comfits,  of  all  sorts.” 

With  the  memory  of  the  far-back  festivities  at  Kenil¬ 
worth,  Frances  inclined  to  the  idea  of  a  water  pageant  by 
way  of  entertainment.  The  great  objedlion  to  this  idea 
lay  in  the  fact  that  Elvetham  had  no  lake.  Still,  having 
surmounted  so  many  difficulties  in  connexion  with  the 
Queen’s  visit,  the  Earl  of  Hertford  would  not  let  such  a 
trifle  stand  in  the  way.  If  his  Countess  considered  a  water 
pageant  necessary,  then  one  should  there  be,  lake  or  no 
lake.  Frances  did  think  so,  whereon  handy  men  set 

N 


178  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

instantly  to  work  to  make  a  goodly  pond  the  perfect 
figure  of  a  half-moon. 

Shortly  their  labour  materialized:  muddy  water 
environed  by  sticky  banks;  still  a  goodly  pond  and  semi¬ 
circular.  The  handy  men  displayed  it  with  pride  to  the 
Countess  of  Hertford.  Frances  viewed  it  without  enthu¬ 
siasm;  during  its  excavation  the  idea  of  a  water  pageant 
had  taken  definite  shape;  a  goodly  pond  alone  no  longer 
sufficed  her.  She  desired  the  handy  men  to  furnish  the  pond 
with  islands.  Not  mere  mud  dumps,  but  islands  sembla- 
tively  imaginative  of  a  ship,  a  fort,  and  a  snail.  The  handy 
men  scratched  their  heads  and  set  to  work.  Presently  there 
arose  an  island  with  tree  poles  for  masts  in  emulation  of  a 
sailing  ship;  one  like  a  fort  bearing  cannon;  and  a  third 
with  circulated  gradations  of  privet  bushes  for  a  snail. 

Within  doors  the  Countess  of  Hertford  and  her  women 
stitched  away  at  sails  for  the  “ship  isle,”  and  dresses  to  be 
worn  by  the  performers  in  the  pageant.  Rehearsals  for  the 
latter  were  in  full  swing,  the  adfors  trusting  that  both 
their  parts  and  the  properties  would  be  perfected  by  the 
time  of  Her  Majesty’s  visit. 

On  Monday,  September  20th,  the  Earl  of  Hertford 
with  two  hundred  friends  and  retainers,  wearing  gold 
chains  round  their  necks  and  black  and  orange  feathers  in 
their  hats,  rode  forth  to  meet  the  Queen.  Half-way  across 
the  park  Elizabeth  was  met  by  six  virgins,  who  preceded  her 
to  the  house  strewing  flowers  before  her  horse  and  singing: 

“With  fragrant  flowers  we  strew  the  way, 

And  make  this  our  chief  holiday; 

For  though  this  clime  were  blest  of  yore, 

Yet  was  it  never  proud  before. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  179 

Oh,  beauteous  Queen  of  second  Troy 
Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy! 

Now  air  is  sweeter  than  sweet  balm, 

And  satyrs  dance  about  the  palm; 

Now  earth  with  verdure  newly  dight 
Gives  perfect  sign  of  her  delight. 

Oh,  beauteous  Queen  of  second  Troy, 

Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy! 

Now  birds  record  new  harmony. 

And  trees  do  whistle  melody, 

Now  everything  that  nature  breeds 
Doth  clad  itself  in  pleasant  weeds. 

Oh,  beauteous  Queen  of  second  Troy, 

Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy!  ’51 

The  Countess  of  Hertford  “most  humbly  on  her  knees 
welcomed  her  Highness,”  who  bade  her  rise  up  and  kissed 
her,  “using  manie  comfortable  and  princely  speeches.” 

Questions  of  etiquette,  usually  perturbing  to  country 
hostesses,  did  not  trouble  Frances,  who  had  spent  fifteen 
years  at  Court,  and  in  consequence  knew  all  Queen  Eliza¬ 
beth’s  peculiarities  to  a  nicety.  There  had  been  many 
changes  in  the  privy  chamber  since  she  left,  but  her  sister, 
Catherine  Howard,  and  Mary  Radcliffe  still  remained 
heart-whole  as  of  yore.  Together  the  three  talked  over  old 
times;  its  love  affairs,  scandals  and  amusements.  Shrewd- 
tongued  Blanche  Parry,2  who  had  told  all  their  fortunes, 
was  dead,  also  Ann  Cecil,  whose  married  life  had  proved 

1  Nichols’s  Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

2  She  was  buried  in  St.  Margaret’s,  Westminster,  where  there 
is  a  monument  to  her  memory.  Another  monument  at  Bacton, 
Herefordshire,  shows  her  kneeling  before  Queen  Elizabeth. 


i8o  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

such  a  failure.  The  Earl  of  Oxford,  once  so  beloved  by  them 
all,  had  taken  for  his  second  wife  Elizabeth  Trentham, 
co-Maid  of  Honour  with  his  daughter  Elizabeth  Vere. 

Recent  happenings  included  the  unpardonable  offence 
of  Lady  Hertford’s  nephew,  Lord  Robert  Dudley,1  who 
full  and  fair  in  the  Queen’s  very  presence  had  actually 
kissed  Mrs.  Cavendish!  In  extenuation  he  represented  that 
they  were  secretly  married,  and  she  his  lawful  wife.  As 
excuse  this  proved  valueless,  and  he  had  been  forbidden 
the  Court. 

Of  like  temerity  was  Sir  Thomas  Shirley,  the  discovery 
of  whose  engagement  to  Frances  Vavasour2  had  seriously 
ruffled  the  Queen’s  visit  during  the  recent  visit  at  Cow- 
dray.  Not  only  the  other  Maids  of  Honour,  but  even  Sir 
Robert  Cecil  and  Frances  Vavasour’s  aunt,  Lady  Paget 
Carey,  had  found  themselves  involved  in  the  storm. 
“Katherine  Knevett”  had  written  a  letter  to  the  young 
man’s  father,  praying  him  “to  place  against  his  offence  his 
now  most  grievous  case.”  Luckily  Lady  Paget  Carey  had 
expressed  herself  guardedly,  for  the  Queen  got  wind  of 
the  letter  and  commanded  Sir  Thomas  Shirley,  the  elder, 
to  forward  it  immediately  for  her  inspection.  At  the  same 
time  she  instructed  Sir  Robert  Cecil  to  express  her  anger 
at  this  contempt  of  her  Court. 

Sir  Thomas  Shirley,  in  response  to  a  hint  from  Sir 
Robert  Cecil  to  send  a  letter  he  could  show  the  Queen, 
professed  himself  almost  overcome  “in  regard  of  the  most 

1  Lord  Robert  Dudley,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  Lady 
Sh  effield. 

2  d.  of  Henry  Vavasour  of  Coppenthorp,  a  younger  branch  of 
the  Vavasours  of  Hazlewood,  Yorks. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  i  8 i 

unhappy  wreched  dealynge  of  my  unworthy  boye  by 
which  I  stand  vexed  both  in  hart  and  sowle.”  After  “four¬ 
teen  unhappy  weeks’  imprisonment,”  the  subdued  and 
penitent  “boye”  sued  to  Lord  Burghley: 

“I  do  most  humbly  beseech  your  good  Lordship  to  have 
compassion  on  my  most  miserable  estate.  I  have  acknow¬ 
ledged  myne  offence  to  her  majesty  in  ye  grief  of  my 
heart,  with  a  troubled  soul,  and  fourteen  unhappy  weeks’ 
imprisonment;  but  amongst  all  these  calamities,  none  is  so 
greavous  unto  me  as  that  I  live  in  disgrace  with  her  High¬ 
ness,  whose  favour  and  gratious  opinion  I  esteem  above 
my  life,  and  would  be  glad  to  redeem  it  with  the  loss  of 
half  ye  goods  that  God  hath  appointed  me  to  have,  and 
will  be  most  willing  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  in 
her  Highnesses  service.  I  prostrate  myself  most  humbly  at 
her  majestie’s  feet,  and  will  not  think  any  chastiment  too 
much  that  shall  be  imposed;  yet,  nevertheless,  if  her 
majesty  shall  please,  of  Her  gratious  goodness,  to  esteem 
myne  already  streytened  punishment  sufficient,  and  to 
pardon  myne  offence,  and  grand  me  my  liberty,  I  will 
think  and  acknowledge  that  her  majesty  doth  deal  most 
gratiously  with  me,  and  that  I  do  receive  a  second  life 
from  her;  and  if  by  your  Lordship’s  good  means  I  may  be 
released  from  this  great  misery  both  of  body  and  mind,  I 
shall  be  bound  to  your  Lordship  while  I  live,  and  will  not 
fail,  both  by  my  service  and  prayers,  to  seek  all  means  to 
deserve  ye  same;  and  so  I  do  most  humbly  commit  my¬ 
self  to  your  honourable  consideration,  at  the  sorrowful 
marshalsea,  the  28th  of  December  1591. 

Your  good  Lordship’s  most  dutifully  bound 

to  doe  you  all  servis.  Thomas  Sherley.”1 


1  Lansdowne  MS. 


1 82  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Though  Frances  Vavasour  might  take  no  part  in  the 
Elvetham  festivities,  her  sister,  Ann  Vavasour,  Bridget 
Manners,ElizabethVere,  Lady  Mary  Howard,  andthe  other 
Maids  of  Honour,  contrived  to  enjoy  themselves  amaz¬ 
ingly.  In  particular,  the  water  pageant  proved  a  great 
success,  though  at  first  fears  were  entertained  lest  in¬ 
clement  weather  should  prevent  its  presentation. 

Elizabeth,  seated  on  a  chair  of  State,  beneath  a  canopy 
of  green  and  silver,  its  silver  poles  upheld  by  four  stalwart 
knights,  watched  the  proceedings  with  interest.  First  came 
the  sea  gods,  swimming  or  wading  according  to  several 
ability,  headed  by  Nereus  “attired  in  redde  silke,  and 
having  a  cornered  cappe  on  his  wilde  heade.”  In  his  wake 
five  Tritons,  “all  with  grislie  heads,  and  beardes  of  divers 
colours  and  fashions,  all  five  cheerfully  sounding  their 
trumpets.”  To  their  music  was  added  the  earnest  en¬ 
deavour  of  three  virgins  in  a  beflagged  pinnace,  playing 
Scottish  jigs  on  cornets. 

Sea  gods  made  laudatory  speeches,  supplemented  by 
rich  presents  provided  by  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Hert¬ 
ford;  followed  by  aquatic  horse-play,  till  their  rivals,  the 
wild  men  of  the  woods,  dashed  up  to  contest  their  supre¬ 
macy.  Sylvanus,  the  leader,  clad  in  hairy  skins,  with  his 
face,  arms  and  legs  dyed  saffron,  began  his  speech: 

“Sylvanus  comes  from  out  the  leafy  groaves 
To  honor  her  whom  all  the  world  adores,” 

when  Nereus  pulled  him  back  into  the  pond,  to  the  ex¬ 
ceeding  mirth  of  the  speifators.  Then  a  mimic  battle 
between  the  rivals  followed  which  brought  the  pageant  to 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  183 

an  end,  Elizabeth  expressing  herself  as  greatly  diverted 
thereby. 

Another  novelty  provided  for  the  Queen’s  pleasure  was 
a  tennis  match,  not  played  in  covered  court  according  to 
custom,  but  out  of  doors  on  one  of  the  smooth  lawns  near 
the  house. 

“Ten  of  the  Earle  of  Hertford’s  servants,  all  Somerset¬ 
shire  men,  in  a  square  greene  court,  before  her  majestie’s 
window,  did  hang  up  lines,  squaring  out  the  forme  of  a 
tennis-court,  and  making  a  crosse  line  in  the  middle.  In 
this  square  they  (being  stript  out  of  their  dublets)  played 
five  to  five  with  hand-ball  at  bord  and  cord  (as  they  term 
it),  to  the  so  great  liking  of  her  Highnes,  that  she  gra¬ 
ciously  deyned  to  beholde  their  pastime  more  than  an  hour 
and  a  half.”1 

In  the  evening,  when  moth-hunting  bats  flitted  over 
the  garden,  the  royal  party  sat  down  to  an  open-air  ban¬ 
quet.  The  long  tressel  tables,  set  in  an  open  gallery  over¬ 
looking  the  garden,  groaned  beneath  the  array  of  pro¬ 
visions,  set  off  by  sparkling  silver  plate  and  crystal  glasses. 
Torch-bearers  lighted  the  guests,  and  a  hundred  links 
formed  a  line  from  the  gallery  to  the  cook-house  on  the 
hill,  from  whence  two  hundred  of  my  Lord  of  Hertford’s 
men  ran  backwards  and  forward  with  fresh  dishes.  For 
diversion,  there  were  fireworks  sent  up  from  the  islands  in 
the  pond,  which  broke  in  coloured  stars  against  the  dark¬ 
ness  of  night. 

The  morning  of  departure  Lady  Hertford  arranged  a 

1  Contemporary  Tract,  printed  in  Nichols’s  Progresses.  This 
is  the  first  mention  of  “lawn”  tennis,  the  game  having  been 
previously  played  with  hard  balls  on  a  covered  court. 


184  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

dance  of  fairies  on  the  lawn  beneath  the  Queen’s  window. 
Round  a  silver  pole  surmounted  by  a  crown  they  danced, 
singing : 

“Elisa  is  the  fairest  Quene, 

That  ever  trod  upon  this  greene. 

Elisa’s  eyes  are  blessed  starres, 

Inducing  peace,  subduing  warres. 

Elisa’s  hand  is  christall  bright, 

Her  wordes  are  balme,  her  lookes  are  light. 

Elisa’s  brest  is  that  faire  hill. 

Where  virtue  dwels,  and  sacred  skill, 

O  blessed  bee  each  day  and  houre, 

Where  sweete  Elisa  builds  her  bowre.” 

Elizabeth,  much  pleased,  requested  a  repetition  of  the 
performance,  that  the  ladies  who  had  not  been  present 
before  might  have  a  chance  of  witnessing  it. 

In  the  meanwhile  it  had  come  on  to  rain;  “a  most  ex¬ 
treme  rain,”  but  the  Queen,  habitually  indifferent  to 
weather,  ordered  her  coach  to  be  ready  at  the  appointed 
time.  Very  cordially  did  she  bid  good-bye  to  Frances  and 
her  husband,  assuring  them  “the  beginning,  and  end  of 
this  entertainment,  was  so  honourable,  she  would  not  for¬ 
get  the  same.” 

This  promise  proved  shortlived,  for  before  long  the 
Earl  of  Hertford  fell  into  dire  disgrace,  consequent  on  his 
attempting  to  establish  the  validity  of  his  marriage  with 
Lady  Catherine  Grey  and  the  legitimacy  of  their  sons. 

Elizabeth  considered  this  a  menace  to  the  succession, 
which  she  still  refused  to  establish,  and  ordered  her  late 
host  to  the  Tower  forthwith. 

Frances,  dearly  loving  her  husband,  and  knowing  how 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  185 

often  the  Tower  proved  an  inhospitable  bourne  from 
whence  prisoners  never  returned,  became  nearly  crazy 
with  grief,  so  that  the  report  got  abroad  that  Lady  Hert¬ 
ford  had  “become  starck  mad.” 

Elizabeth  heard  and  was  troubled,  for  she  loved  F ranees, 
and  though  she  intended  to  keep  the  Earl  a  prisoner  had 
no  thought  of  beheading  him.  To  quiet  her  friend’s  alarm 
she  penned  the  following  letter  : — 

“Goode  Franche.  Understanding  your  disposition  to  be 
troubled  with  sudden  impressions,  even  in  matters  of  little 
moment,  we  do  not  now  forget  you  in  your  Lord’s  mis¬ 
fortunes,  and  therefore  have  thought  it  not  amiss,  even  by 
our  own  handwriting  (your  ladyship’s  brother  being 
absent  whom  otherwise  we  would  have  used)  to  assure  you 
of  our  continuance  of  our  former  grace,  and  to  preserve 
your  spirit  for  those  perturbations,  which  love  is  the 
person  offending,  and  apprehension  of  the  matter,  so  far 
unexpe6ted,  might  daily  have  bred  in  you.  It  is  not  con¬ 
venient  to  acquaint  you  with  all  the  particular  circum¬ 
stances  of  his  offence,  neither  would  it  avail  you,  who  have 
been  ignorant  of  all  its  causes;  but  (to  prevent  misappre¬ 
hension  that  this  crime  is  in  its  nature  more  pernicious  and 
malicious  than  an  act  of  lewd  proud  contempt  against  our 
direct  prohibition),  have  vouchsafed  to  cause  a  ticket  to 
be  shown  you  by  the  bearer,  which  may  resolve  you  from 
further  doubting  what  is  not  and  satisfy  your  mind  for 
caring  for  that  which  care  now  remedies  not,  being  a 
matter  both  proved  by  record,  and  confessed  with  repent¬ 
ance. 

It  is  far  from  our  desire  to  pick  out  faults  in  such  as  he; 
being  slow  to  rigour  towards  the  meanest,  we  will  use  no 
more  severity  than  is  requisite  for  others  caution  in  like 
case,  and  that  shall  stand  with  honour  and  necessity.  Your 


1 86  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

ladyship  will  quickly  judge  when  you  understand  it,  that 
his  offence  can  have  no  colour  of  imputation  on  you,  and 
you  will  not  be  one  jot  less  esteemed  for  any  faults  of  his. 
You  are  therefore  to  trust  this  assurance,  as  the  voice  of 
that  Prince  to  whose  pure  and  constant  mind  you  are  no 
stranger,  and  comfort  yourself  that  you  have  served  one 
who  still  wishes  you  good,  and  cares  to  the  contrary.  For 
a  farewell,  you  are  to  observe  this  rule,  that  seeing  griefs 
and  troubles  make  haste  enough  unsent  for,  to  surprise  us, 
there  can  be  no  folly  greater  than  by  fearing  that  which  is 
not,  to  overthrow  the  health  of  mind  and  body,  which 
once  being  lost  the  rest  of  your  life  is  labour  and  sorrow, 
and  work  to  God  unaccepetable,  and  discomfortable  to  all 
our  friends.”1 

Frances,  taking  heart  from  this  letter,  dressed  herself  in 
the  meanest  garments  to  express  outward  humility,  and 
went  to  the  place  to  seek  an  audience  of  the  Queen. 
Catherine  Howard  could  confidently  assure  her  sister  that 
neither  the  Earl’s  life  nor  estates  were  in  danger,  but  it 
was  some  time  before  she  obtained  permission  for  the  de¬ 
sired  interview.  Elizabeth  had  no  objection  to  Lady  Hert¬ 
ford  remaining  at  the  palace,  constantly  sending  her  com¬ 
forting  messages  and  “Broth’s  in  a  morning,  and  at  meals, 
meat  from  her  Trencher.”2  At  length  persistence  and  the 
claim  of  long  friendship  prevailed,  and  Frances  obtained 
her  husband’s  release,  on  payment  of  a  heavy  fine. 

1  Calendar  Domestic  State  Papers,  1595. 

2  Collins’  Sydney  Papers 


CHAPTER  XX 


LADY  BRIDGET  MANNERS  and  Lady  Eliza¬ 
beth  Vere,  who  came  to  Court  within  a  few  weeks 
of  each  other,  recalled  memories  of  those  early 
days  of  the  Queen’s  reign  when  Mary  Radcliffe  and 
Catherine  Howard,  now  the  two  “old  maids”  at  Court, 
were  among  the  merry,  light-hearted  Maids  of  Honour. 
Then  the  ladies  of  the  privy  chamber  nourished  hopeless 
infatuation  for  Elizabeth  Vere’s  father,  the  Earl  of  Oxford, 
and  had  very  real  esteem  for  Bridget  Manners’s  uncle, 
Edward,  Earl  of  Rutland.  The  Earl  of  Oxford  married 
Ann  Cecil,  and  broke  her  heart;  the  Earl  of  Rutland 
wedded  Isabel  Holcroft,  and  became  “a  profound 
lawyer,  and  a  man  accomplished  with  all  polite  learning.”1 
Elizabeth  had  intended  making  him  Lord  Chancellor  had 
not  his  death  supervened,  when  she  appointed  Sir 
Christopher  Hatton  instead. 

As  the  Earl  of  Rutland  left  no  son  the  title  passed  to  his 
brother  John,  who  died  a  year  later,  leaving  his  widow 
with  a  large  family  of  young  children  to  bring  up.  To 
help  her,  the  Duchess  of  Bedford2  suggested  taking  charge 
of  the  eldest  girl,  Bridget,  to  educate  as  her  own 
daughter. 

The  Countess  of  Rutland,  much  occupied  with  business 
worries,  and  in  perpetual  fri£Hon  with  Isabel  Holcroft, 
the  other  Countess  of  Rutland,  readily  agreed  to  the 
1  Camden. 

2  Bridget,  d.  of  John,  Lord  Hussey,  m.,  istly,  Sir  John  Morrison, 
Kt.  ;  2ndly,  Henry  Manners,  2nd  Earl  of  Rutland;  3rdly,  Francis, 
Earl  of  Bedford. 

187 


1 88  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

proposal.  At  the  same  time,  having  but  poor  estimation 
of  her  daughter’s  capabilities,  she  informed  Lady  Bedford 
candidly  that  so  far  eleven-year-old  Bridget  had  received 
pradfically  no  education;  her  one  accomplishment,  to 
play  a  little  on  the  lute;  her  great  detriment,  a  tendency 
to  stoop. 

Lady  Bridget,  with  no  furniture,  few  recommendations, 
and  many  admonitions  to  hold  up  her  head,  started  off 
on  her  journey  to  Woburn  in  Bedfordshire,  where  she 
arrived  safely  without  mishap  by  highway  robbery  or 
accident.  The  Countess  of  Bedford  found  her  step- 
granddaughter  such  a  charming,  attradlive  girl  that  she 
decided  not  to  bother  about  her  negledled  education, 
but  to  try  and  obtain  for  her  the  next  vacancy  in  the 
Queen’s  privy  chamber. 

Lady  Bedford  did,  however,  feel  some  displeasure 
towards  the  Countess  of  Rutland  for  having  sent  her 
daughter  with  so  few  goods  and  chattels,  and  at  her 
request  Lady  Bridget  wrote  to  her  mother: 

“My  Lady  of  Bedford  did  byd  me  send  to  your  lady¬ 
ship  for  a  bed  and  for  hangings  for  my  chamber  and  a 
litel  playte  to  set  of  my  cubbard.  She  saith  she  wold  have 
my  chamber  fyne  when  I  wear  at  London,  and  if  it  pleas 
your  Ladyship  to  send  me  such  things,  they  shall  by  the 
grace  of  God  be  very  well  loaket  too.”1 

The  Countess  of  Rutland  was  not  pleased  at  having  to 
send  the  furniture,  thinking  “a  lady  so  honourably 
minded  as  my  Lady  Bedford  would  have  afforded  my 
daughter  furniture  for  her  chamber  in  her  house.”  Nor  did 

1  Duke  of  Rutland’s  MSS.,  Hist.  MSS.  Com. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  189 

she  approve  the  prospeft  of  a  Court  appointment,  hoping 
it  would  “not  as  yet  fall  so,  for  Bridget  has  no  acquaintance 
in  that  place  and  is  therefore  most  unfit  for  it.” 

Lady  Bedford,  delighted  with  the  girl  under  her  charge, 
thought  otherwise,  and  continued  to  make  interest  at 
Court  to  such  good  purpose  that  Lady  Bridget  received 
the  next  appointment.  The  Countess  of  Rutland  sent 
£200  to  buy  an  outfit,  coupled  with  the  dubious  hope 
that  Bridget  would  “behave  herself  as  shall  be  pleasing,” 
and  not  disgrace  her  family  by  stooping  at  Court.  None 
of  Bridget’s  relations  entertained  the  slightest  anticipation 
she  would  bring  them  anything  but  discredit.  They 
besought  the  girl’s  grand-uncle,  Roger  Manners,  one  of 
the  esquires  of  the  body,  to  write  her  a  letter  of  admon¬ 
ition.  On  certain  points  did  he  lay  emphasis,  as  befitting 
a  lady  of  Her  Majesty’s  privy  chamber: 

“First  and  above  all  thinges  that  you  forgett  not  to 
use  daly  prayers  to  the  Almightie  God  to  endue  you  with 
his  grace;  then  that  you  applie  yourself  hollye  to  the 
service  of  her  majestie  with  all  meeknes  love  and  obediens; 
wherein  you  must  be  dyligent,  secret  and  faythfull.  To 
your  elders  and  superiors,  of  reverent  behaviour,  to  your 
equalles  and  fellow-servants  syvill  and  courteys;  to  your 
inferiors  you  must  show  all  favour  and  gentlenes. 
Generally  that  you  be  no  medeler  in  the  causes  of  others. 
That  you  use  moch  sylens,  for  that  becometh  maydes, 
especially  of  your  calling.  That  your  speach  and  indevars 
ever  tend  to  the  good  of  all  and  to  the  hurt  of  none.  Thus 
in  breve  madam  have  you  thes  rules;  which,  if  you  have 
grace  to  follow  you  shall  fynd  the  benefit,  and  your 
friendes  shall  rejoyce  of  your  well  doying.”1 

1  Duke  of  Rutland  MSS.,  Hist.  MSS.  Com. 


190  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

To  the  above  he  added  a  postscript  asking  to  be 
remembered  to  Mrs.  Mary  Radcliffe,  and  Bridget’s 
brother,  the  young  Earl  of  Rutland,1  a  Cambridge 
undergraduate  of  thirteen,  subjoined  another:  “My  uncle 
has  given  you  good  advice  and  we  will  pray  that  you  may 
perform  it.” 

To  Court  went  Lady  Bridget,  with  Mary  Harding, 
one  of  the  Countess  of  Rutland’s  waiting  women,  in  close 
attendance,  to  chid  her  if  she  stooped,  and  give  careful 
report  of  all  concerning  her. 

Mistress  and  maid,  used  to  quiet  country  ways,  found 
the  incessant  round  of  gaiety  rather  a  strain  at  first, 
Court  life  being  not  only  more  expensive,  but  “some 
thinge  more  painfuller  than  any  wold  judge,”  who  had 
not  been  in  adtual  attendance  on  Elizabeth. 

Mary  Radcliffe,  who  had  known  Bridget’s  uncle  so  well 
in  the  past,  took  the  new-comer  under  her  kindly  wing 
till  the  girl  grew  more  accustomed  to  the  strangeness 
of  her  surroundings.  The  Queen’s  “merry  guardian,”  as 
the  Courtiers  called  Mary  Radcliffe,  proved  more  like  a 
mother  than  a  stranger  to  Bridget,  who  soon  settled 
down  to  her  new  duties. 

Mary  Harding,  waiting  up  night  after  night  for  her 
young  mistress,  found  “late  watchinges  and  sittinges  up 
are  tedious.”  She  assured  the  Countess  of  Rutland  that 
Lady  Bridget  was  “well  liked  of  all,  and  endevorethe 
herself  to  be  thankfull  and  to  follow  the  cortely  order  in 
all  pointes.”  Also,  “for  her  stoupinge  it  is  very  little  or 

1  Roger,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland,  m.  Elizabeth,  d.  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  191 

none  at  all,  and  if  I  discerne  it  I  will  be  redy  to  put  her 
in  mynde  to  forebeare  the  same,  as  it  pleaseth  you  to 
command.” 

Lady  Bridget’s  sunny  nature  made  her  friends  wherever 
she  went;  further,  to  the  amazement  of  her  depreciative 
family,  she  blossomed  forth  as  a  Court  beautv  celebrated 
in  verse  by  an  admiring  poet. 

“To  the  Beautiful  Lady 
The  Lady  Bridget  Manners. 

Rose  of  that  garland  !  fairest  and  sweetest 

Of  all  those  sweet  and  fair  flowers! 

Pride  of  chaste  Cynthia’s  rich  crown! 

Receive  this  verse,  thy  matchless  beauty  meetest! 

Behold  thy  graces  which  thou  greetest 

And  all  the  secret  powers 

Of  thine,  and  such-like  beauties,  here  set  down! 

Here  thou  shalt  find  thy  frown! 

Here,  thy  sunny  smiling. 

Fame’s  plumes  fly  with  thy  Loves’  which  should  be  fleetest! 

Here,  my  love’s  tempests  and  showers! 

Then  read,  sweet  Beauty!  whom  my  muse  shall  crown! 

Who  for  thee!  such  a  garland  is  compiling. 

Of  so  divine  scents  and  colours, 

As  is  immortal  time  beguiling! 

Your  Beauty’s  most  affectionate  servant 
Barnabe  Barnes.” 

The  surprised  Countess  of  Rutland  also  received  a 
letter  written  by  the  Queen’s  express  command,  com¬ 
mending  “the  exceedinge  good  modest  and  honorable 
behaviour  and  carriage  of  my  Lady  Bridget  your 
daughter,  with  her  carefull  and  dilligent  attendance  of 
Her  Majestie  ys  to  contentynge  to  her  Highness  and  so 
commendable  in  this  place  where  she  lyves — where 


192  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

vyces  will  hardly  receive  vysards  and  virtues  most  shyne — 
as  Her  Majestie  acknowledgeth  she  hath  cause  to  thanck 
you  for  her,  and  you  may  take  comforte  of  so  vertuouse  a 
daughter,  of  whose  beynge  heere  and  attendance  her 
majestie  hath  bidden  me  to  tell  your  Ladyship,  that  you 
shall  have  no  cause  to  repent.”1 

The  Countess  of  Rutland  expressed  herself  much 
honoured  at  this  gratifying  news,  though  she  said  she  felt 
sure  that  “the  gracious  opinion  the  Queen  has  formed  of 
my  daughter’s  service,  is  no  doubt  far  beyond  what  she  is 
able  to  deserve.” 

For  several  years  Lady  Bridget  remained  in  the  privy 
chamber,  growing  increasingly  in  the  Queen’s  favour. 
Elizabeth,  who  when  she  dined  privately  was  waited  upon 
by  her  ladies,  made  Bridget  Manners  act  as  her  carver, 
Lady  Mary  Howard  being  appointed  cup-bearer. 

Bridget,  despite  the  Queen’s  favour,  and  her  own  gift 
of  making  friends,  would  gladly  have  bartered  the 
glamour  and  excitement  of  Court  for  a  quiet  home  life. 
Mary  Harding  entirely  shared  her  mistress’s  views;  both 
were  home-sick  for  the  country.  Marriage  seemed  the 
only  way  out,  but  not  by  any  means  an  easy  way.  The 
Queen  would  certainly  raise  objections  to  Lady  Bridget 
leaving  her,  nor  was  the  girl  herself  easily  satisfied  in  her 
choice  of  a  husband,  for  at  sixteen  she  had  acquired  much 
worldly  wisdom.  The  Earl  of  Northumberland2  made 

1  Duke  of  Rutland’s  MSS. 

2  Henry,  9th  Earl  of  Northumberland,  1564-1632.  Suggested 
as  husband  for  Lady  Arabella  Stuart,  but  Elizabeth  refused  per¬ 
mission;  he  married  Dorothy  Devereux,  widow  of  Sir  Thomas 
Perrot. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  193 

advances,  but  Bridget,  who  cared  nothing  for  a  great 
position,  would  have  none  of  him.  Mary  Harding,  as  she 
brushed  her  mistress’s  hair  at  night,  passed  all  the  eligible 
bachelors  in  view,  and  on  July  5th,  1594,  she  sent  the 
result  of  her  inquiries  to  the  Countess  of  Rutland: 

The  Court  at  Greenwich — “I  besiche  your  ladyship 
will  give  me  leave  to  put  your  honor  in  mynde  of  a  mach 
for  my  Lady  which  your  ladyship  might  procure.  It 
would  be  better  than  eny  she  is  lyke  to  get  heare.  My  Lord 
Wharton,1  I  have  asked  her  ladyship  how  she  coulde  lyke 
of  it.  She  haith  toulde  me  that  she  thought  she  should  leve 
a  more  happier  lyfe  with  him  then  with  the  greatest  lorde 
heare.  The  worste  is  his  children,  but  I  thinke  my  lady  so 
kynde  a  natur  that  she  woulde  ever  love  them  and  imagine 
them  her  owne.  If  it  pleased  God  to  blesse  herselfe  with 
any,  she  would  be  not  doubte  but  he  that  sent  them 
would  provide  for  them.  Truly  if  your  honor  coulde 
bringe  it  to  passe,  my  lady  woulde  thinke  herselfe  very 
happye.  I  think  if  your  Ladyshipe  aske  Mr.  Manners  his 
advice,  he  will  speak  stryghte  of  my  Lorde  of  Bedforthe2 
or  my  Lorde  of  Southampton3  which  is  excedinge  un¬ 
likely.  If  they  were  in  her  choyse,  she  saithe  she  woulde 
chouse  my  Lord  Wharton  befor  them,  for  they  be  so 
yonge  and  fanastycall  and  woulde  be  so  caryed  awaye, 
that  if  anything  should  come  to  your  ladyshipe  but  good, 
being  her  only  stay,  she  doutith  ther  carridge  of  them¬ 
selves  seinge  som  expearyence  of  the  lyke  in  this  place. 

1  Philip  Lord  Wharton,  3rd  Baron,  m.  Lady  Frances  Clifford, 
d.  of  Henry,  Earl  of  Cumberland.  She  left  him  a  widower  with 
five  children. 

2  Edward,  Earl  of  Bedford  (1572-1627),  m.  Lucy,  d.  of  John, 
Lord  Harrington. 

3  Henry  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton,  1573-1624,  m. 
Elizabeth,  d.  of  Sir  John  Vernon,  of  Hodnet. 

o 


194  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Therefore  I  thought  good  to  acquaint  your  Ladyship 
with  my  Ladye’s  mynde  as  neare  as  I  can,  and  woulde 
wishe  it  if  it  might  stand  with  your  honores  pleasure; 
for  if  your  Ladyship  did  know  how  weary  my  lady  wer  of 
the  courte,  and  what  littel  gayne  there  is  gotten  in  this 
tyme,  Her  Majestie’s  favorabel  countenance  excepted, 
which  my  lady  haithe,  your  honour  would  willingly  be 
contented  with  a  meaner  fortun  to  helpe  her  from  hence. 
If  your  honor  woulde  ask  Mr.  Manners  his  advice  he 
woulde  have  the  moste  conynge  to  gett  her  away.  I 
think  the  nearest  waye  wer  to  fayne  the  messelles  so  she 
might  have  leve  for  a  mounthe  to  see  your  Ladyship, 
to  ayre  her.  And  when  she  wer  once  withe  youre  honor, 
you  might  sue  to  gett  the  Quene’s  favor.  It  woulde  be 
easily  granted  when  she  wer  so  far  from  her.”1 

The  Countess  of  Rutland  did  not  fall  in  with  the  idea 
of  Bridget  becoming  stepmother  to  Lord  Wharton’s  five 
children.  She  had  just  obtained  the  wardship  of  Mr. 
Robert  Tyrrwhit2  of  Kettleby  in  Lincolnshire,  and  as  a 
family  feud  had  long  been  raging  between  the  two  houses 
the  Countess  of  Rutland  thought  she  saw  an  opportunity 
to  bring  it  to  an  end  by  marrying  the  young  heir  to  her 
daughter  Bridget.  Roger  Manners,  when  consulted, 
cordially  approved  of  the  plan,  the  success  of  which  now 
depended  on  getting  Lady  Bridget  home  to  Belvoir 
Castle.  There  were  obvious  dangers  in  connexion  with 
Mary  Harding’s  idea  that  her  young  mistress  should 
pretend  to  have  an  attack  of  measles,  so  the  Countess  of 

1  Duke  of  Rutland’s  MSS. 

2  Son  of  William  Tyrrwhit  of  Kettleby,  and  grandson  of  Sir 
Robert  Tyrrwhit,  whose  wife  had  been  governess  to  Queen 
Elizabeth. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  195 

Rutland  wrote  to  Mary  Radcliffe  pleading  her  own  ill 
health  and  a  desire  to  see  Bridget  after  five  years’  absence. 
Mary  Radcliffe  could  manage  to  get  most  things  she 
wanted  from  the  Queen,  and  by  her  advocacy  the 
girl  received  permission  to  leave  Court  for  a  month. 

Home  to  Belvoir  Castle  went  Lady  Bridget,  where  she 
found  Mr.  Robert  Tyrrwhit  ready  and  waiting.  The  two 
young  people  were  not  unknown  to  each  other,  for  Mr. 
Tyrrwhit  had  been  one  of  the  Queen’s  pages  when 
twelve-year-old  Bridget  first  went  to  Court,  and  they  very 
willingly  fell  in  with  their  elders’  plan  for  a  marriage 
between  them. 

Lady  Bridget,  weary  of  Court,  rejoiced  at  the  prospedf 
of  a  home  of  her  own;  Robert  Tyrrwhit  was  only  too 
eager  to  install  the  Court  beauty  as  Mistress  of  Kettleby; 
the  Countess  of  Rutland,  equally  anxious,  hurried  matters 
on,  and  the  marriage  took  place  in  the  private  chapel  at 
Belvoir. 

All  parties  concerned  then  waited  in  anxiety  to  see 
what  would  happen  when  the  news  reached  the  Queen 
that  her  lady  carver  had  dared  to  marry  without  asking 
permission.  Reports  of  Elizabeth’s  anger  so  exceeded  the 
families’  worst  fears,  that  panic  stricken  they  all  sought 
to  exculpate  themselves  from  blame.  The  Countess  of 
Rutland  declared  the  wedding  had  taken  place  without 
either  her  knowledge  or  consent;  Roger  Manners  pro¬ 
tested  that  the  subject  had  never  even  been  mentioned 
to  him;  the  bridegroom  said  he  had  no  idea  he  was  doing 
anything  which  could  offend  the  Queen. 

Elizabeth  heard  their  excuses,  unappeased  and  unbe- 


196  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

lieving.  The  Countess  of  Rutland’s  friends  at  Court  gave 
cold  comfort: 

“Her  majestie  neither  by  the  sight  of  your  ladyship’s 
letter  nor  by  all  the  reasons  they  can  use,  will  be  per¬ 
suade  1  to  beleave  your  honor  could  be  ignorant  of  it. 
Her  majesty  grounded  this  her  conceipte  upon  the 
opinion  her  Highness  hath  long  had  of  your  ladyship’s 
wisdom  and  of  my  Lady  Bridget’s  obedience  to  you 
concludinge  thereupon  that  a  matter  of  such  waight 
could  not  be  done  without  your  Ladyship’s  acquaintance, 
the  same  beinge  no  lesse  than  the  marriage  of  your  owne 
daughter  in  your  owne  house,  and  by  your  owne  chaplain.” 

The  bride  and  bridegroom  were  ordered  to  return  to 
Court  immediately,  where  it  was  thought  Lady  Bridget 
would  “lye  by  the  heeles  upon  the  dyspleasure  of  her 
marriage,  without  leave.”1  Robert  Tyrrwhit  came  to 
town,  went  to  prison  and  fell  ill;  but  three  weeks  passed, 
and  still  Lady  Bridget  had  not  come.  Lord  Hunsdon,  the 
Lord  Chamberlain,  told  the  Countess  of  Rutland  that  the 
Queen  considered  herself  “undutifullie  handled  at  your 
hands,”  and  it  behoved  her  to  despatch  Lady  Bridget 
“least  her  majesty  do  look  further  into  that  marriadge 
than  yet  she  hath  done.” 

Bridget,  the  favourite,  came  back  to  Court  in  disfavour, 
as  with  saddened  face  she  passed  through  the  presence 
chamber  for  an  interview  with  her  former  mistress. 
Elizabeth  had  worked  herself  into  one  of  her  tantrums, 
but  when  Bridget,  quiet,  brave  and  straightforward,  stood 
before  her,  not  seeking  to  excuse  her  aftion,  only  anxious 

1  Philip  Gaudy’s  Letters. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  197 

to  take  all  the  blame  on  her  own  shoulders  so  that  others 
might  not  suffer,  the  Queen’s  anger  melted.  Bridget 
obtained  forgiveness  and  her  husband’s  release.  Elizabeth 
ordered  Lord  Hunsdon  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  to  the 
Countess  of  Rutland  “that  she  doth  not  impute  the 
fawlte  so  much  to  the  young  couple  as  to  your  Ladyship; 
for  though  my  Lady  Bridgett  hath  taken  the  fawlte  upon 
herself  to  excuse  your  fawlte,  yet  her  majesty  is  well 
assured  that  my  Lady  Bridget  would  never  have  married 
without  your  consent  and  speciall  commandment,  so  as 
she  thinkes  your  Ladyship  more  fawlteworthie  than 
they.” 

Despite  the  husband’s  extravagance  the  marriage  proved 
a  happy  one;  even  Bridget’s  family,  still  loath  to  award 
praise,  admitted  that  Mr.  Tyrrwhit  made  “a  good  hus¬ 
band,  and  she  a  passing  good  wife.” 

Three  boys  and  one  little  daughter,  “Briget,”  added  to 
their  mother’s  happiness,  but  she  fell  into  ill  health  and 
“ended  her  transitorie  lyfe  in  the  tenth  yere  of  her  mar¬ 
riage.”  On  her  tomb  in  Bigby  Church  in  Lincolnshire 
Robert  Tyrrwhit  placed  the  following  inscription: 

“Here  lyeth  the  Right  Honorable  the  Lady  Brigett, 
Daughter  of  John,  Earle  of  Rutland  and  Rosse, 

Baron  Hemsley  Trushitt  and  Belvoire 
Wife  to  Robert  Tyrrwhit  of  Ketelby  esqr. 
Sometime  of  the  Privy  Chamber  to  Queen  Elizabeth 
and  in  special  grace  and  favor 
Of  speech  affable,  of  countenance  amiable, 

Nothing  proud  of  her  place  and  fortunes, 
and  usynge  her  grace 
Rather  to  benefit  others  than  herselfe, 


198 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 


Who  having  been  long  visited  with  sicknesse, 
the  10th  day  of  July  1604 
finished  this  mortal!  Life 
Leaving  behinde  her  fower  children 
William,  Robert,  Rutland,  and  Briget. 

In  memory  of  whom  as  also  of  himself 
Whenever  it  shall  please  God  to  call  him 
from  this  vale  of  misery 
Her  deare  husband  Mr.  Robert  Tyrrwhit 
At  his  coste  eredled  this  monument.” 


CHAPTER  XXI 


MAIDS  of  Honour  came,  and  Maids  of  Honour 
left  to  become  wives,  mothers,  and  eventually 
grandmothers,  but  through  all  the  changes 
Elizabeth  remained  resolutely  the  same, 

“An  ever  young  and  most  immortal  goddess.”1 

Grow  old  she  would  not,  clinging  obstinately  to  the 
fond  delusion  that  she  alone  among  women  was  imper¬ 
vious  to  the  ravages  of  time.  A  looking-glass  would  have 
shown  her  otherwise,  but  Elizabeth  had  long  since  ceased 
to  place  any  faith  in  refledlive  mirrors,  being  “so  farre 
from  all  niceness,”  that  she  trusted  entirely  to  the  ladies 
for  “the  comeliness  of  her  attyre.”  The  elaborately 
framed  mirrors,  once  such  a  feature  of  the  palace,  had 
disappeared  lest  the  Queen  should  behold  herself  as  she 
was,  a  lean,  haggard,  over-dressed  old  woman,  with  the 
anxieties  of  years  pooled  in  the  depths  of  her  lack-lustre 
eyes. 

The  courtiers,  who  with  persistent  deceitfulness  com¬ 
mended  their  mistress’s  beauty,  regarded  the  ladies’  apart¬ 
ments  with  apprehension,  for  no  amount  of  entreaty  could 
induce  the  Maids  of  Honour  to  dispense  with  looking- 
glasses.  They  entered  readily  into  the  conspiracy  to  pre¬ 
vent  the  Queen  seeing  herself,  but  they  saw  no  reason  why 
such  unnecessary  self-denial  should  be  extended  to  them¬ 
selves.  It  therefore  happened  that  when  Elizabeth  pro¬ 
posed  to  pass  through  the  ladies’  apartments  efforts  were 

1  Bussy  D’Ambois,  George  Chapman. 

199 


200  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

made  to  restrain  her,  whilst  courtiers  hurried  on  ahead  to 
hide  any  exposed  mirrors.  In  their  haste  they  frequently 
broke  them,  to  the  excessive  annoyance  of  the  fair  owners. 

Certain  painters  and  engravers,  with  more  zeal  for  accu¬ 
racy  than  flattery,  called  down  the  royal  wrath  upon 
themselves  because  they  presumed  to  circulate  piftures  of 
the  Queen,  “to  the  offence  and  disgrace  of  that  bewtyfull 
and  magnanimious  majesty  wherewith  God  hath  blessed 
her.”  Such  portraits  the  Privy  Council  ordered  to  be  de¬ 
stroyed,  and  no  more  to  be  issued,  “but  suche  as  her 
majesty’s  sergeant  Paynter  shall  first  have  a  sight  of.”1 

Knowing  the  Queen’s  humour  and  weakness,  the  cour¬ 
tiers  did  not  scruple  to  play  upon  her  vanity  by  the  most 
extravagant  encomiums  of  a  beauty  which  no  longer 
existed  save  in  her  own  imagination.  On  the  occasion  of  a 
visit  to  Theobalds,  Sir  Robert  Cecil  contrived  expression 
to  the  prevailing  deceit,  in  the  flattery  offered  by  a  sup¬ 
posed  hermit: 

“But  that  which  most  amazeth  me,  to  whose  long  ex¬ 
perience  nothing  can  seem  strange,  is  that  with  these  same 
eyes  I  do  behold  you  the  self-same  Queen,  in  the  same 
estate  of  person,  strength,  beauty,  in  which  so  many  years 
past  I  beheld  you,  finding  no  alteration,  but  in  admiration, 
insomuch,  that  I  am  persuaded  when  I  look  about  me  on 
your  train,  that  time  which  catcheth  everybody,  leaves 
only  you  untouched.” 

Indisputably  Elizabeth’s  train  had  changed  since  the 
early  years  of  the  reign,  for  though  Kate  Carey  (Countess 
of  Nottingham),  Ann  Russell  (Lady  Warwick),  Cecilia 

1  Acts  of  the  Privy  Council,  1586. 


Coll,  of  Major  Radclvffe 


MARY  RADCLYFFE 


201 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Knollys  (Lady  Leighton),  Philadelphia  Carey  (Lady 
Scrope),  Katherine  Knevett  (Lady  Paget-Carey),  Mary 
Shelton  (Lady  Scudamore),  Mary  Radcliffe  and  Catherine 
Howard,  were  with  their  mistress  still;  they  had  grown  old 
in  her  service,  and  were  stately  grey-haired  ladies  who  bore 
their  years  with  dignity. 

The  gay  company  of  knights — tilters,  whose  exploits 
provided  themes  in  the  far-off  sixties,  had  laid  aside  their 
lances  to  become  lookers-on  at  the  tilt  yard,  where  a  new 
generation  of  courtiers  worthily  upheld  the  traditions  of 
their  fathers. 

At  length  even  Sir  Henry  Lee,  “being  now  by  age  over¬ 
taken,”  felt  that  at  last  the  time  had  come  when  he  must 
relinquish  the  part  of  Queen’s  champion  to  a  younger 
man.  Elizabeth,  “with  a  train  of  ladies,  like  the  stars  in  the 
firmament,”1  assembled  in  the  gallery  when  Sir  Henry 
Lee  issued  his  final  challenge  on  the  thirty-third  anniver¬ 
sary  of  her  accession. 

Sounded  the  trumpets,  as  a  signal  for  Sir  Henry  Lee 
and  the  Earl  of  Cumberland2  to  open  the  tournament: 

“Mighty  in  arms,  mounted  on  puissant  horse, 

Knight  of  the  crown,  in  rich  embroidery, 

And  costly  fair  caparison  charged  with  crowns, 
O’ershadow’d  with  a  wither’d  running  vine, 

As  who  would  say,  ‘my  spring  of  youth  is  past,’ 

In  corselet  gilt  of  curious  workmanship, 

Sir  Henry  Lee,  redoubted  man-at-arms, 

Leads  in  the  troops:  whom  worthy  Cumberland, 
Thrice-noble  earl,  accoutred  as  became 
So  great  a  warrior  and  so  good  a  knight, 

1  Higford’s  Institutions  of  a  Gentleman. 

2  George  Clifford,  Earl  of  Cumberland,  1558-16015. 


202  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 


Encounter’d  first  y-clad  in  coat  of  steel, 

And  plumes  and  pendants  all  as  white  as  swan, 

And  spear  in  rest,  right  ready  to  perform 
What  ’long’d  unto  the  honour  of  the  place. 

Together  went  these  champions,  horse  and  man, 
Thundering  along  the  tilt;  that  at  the  shock 
The  hollow  gyring  vault  of  heavens  resounds. 

Six  courses  spent,  and  spears  in  shivers  split.”1 

After  the  tilt  Sir  Henry  Lee  and  the  Earl  of  Cumber¬ 
land  approached  the  foot  of  the  gallery  where  the  Queen 
sat.  At  the  same  instant  music  sounded,  and  a  temple  of 
white  taffeta  appeared  as  if  by  magic,  showing  within  a 
golden  altar  containing  rich  gifts.  Three  white-clad  vestal 
virgins  presented  these  to  the  Queen  in  the  name  of  her 
retiring  champion,  for  whose  resignation  a  singer  mean¬ 
while  gave  explanation: 

“My  golden  locks  time  hath  to  silver  turn’d 
(Oh  time  too  swift,  and  swiftness  never  ceasing), 

My  youth  ’gainst  age,  and  age  at  youth  hath  spurn’d: 

But  spurn’d  in  vain,  youth  waneth  by  increasing, 

Beauty,  strength,  and  youth,  flowers  fading  been, 

Duty,  faith,  and  love  are  roots  and  evergreen. 

My  helmet  now  shall  make  a  hive  for  bees, 

And  lovers’  songs  shall  turn  to  holy  psalms; 

A  man  at  arms  must  now  sit  on  his  knees, 

And  feed  on  pray’rs  that  are  old  age’s  alms. 

And  so  from  Court  to  cottage  I  depart; 

My  saint  is  sure  of  mine  unspotted  heart. 

And  when  I  sadly  sit  in  homely  cell, 

I’ll  teach  my  swains  this  carrol  for  a  song 
‘Blest  be  the  hearts  that  think  my  sovereign  well, 

Curs’d  be  the  souls  that  think  to  do  her  wrong.’ 

Goddess,  vouchsafe  this  aged  man  his  right, 

To  be  your  beadsman  now  that  was  your  knight.” 

1  Polyhymnia ,  George  Peele. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  203 

Sir  Henry  removed  his  armour,  introduced  the  Earl  of 
Cumberland  as  his  successor  as  Queen’s  champion,  then 
wrapping  himself  in  a  black  velvet  cloak  he  left  the  scene 
of  his  former  triumphs.  It  was  an  affedling  sight  to  see  the 
old  knight  take  leave  of  his  youth,  but  Sir  Henry  did  not 
settle  down  to  the  life  of  tranquil  senility  so  touchingly 
foretold  by  the  singer.  A  girl’s  eyes  rekindled  the  fires  of 
his  heart,  so  that  Sir  Henry  quite  forgot  to  turn  his  helmet 
into  a  hive  for  bees,  and  conducted  himself  in  such  wise 
as  to  cause  his  patron  saint  to  be  extremely  doubtful  of 
receiving  his  soul  in  anything  resembling  a  spotless  con¬ 
dition.  Mistress  Ann  Vavasour,  who  flourished  “like  the 
lily  and  the  rose,”  was  responsible  for  the  rejuvenation  of 
Sir  Henry  Lee,  to  the  despair  of  her  many  young  cour¬ 
tiers,  who  were  at  loss  to  conceive  how  she  could  prefer 
such  an  elderly  admirer  to  themselves. 

Elizabeth  could  better  spare  her  knight  champion  than 
the  lord  treasurer,  Burleigh,  who,  in  feeble  health  and 
feeling  the  weight  of  his  years,  would  gladly  have  relin¬ 
quished  office.  Elizabeth  would  not  permit  this,  though 
realizing  the  seriousness  of  his  condition,  saying  “she  did 
entreat  Heaven  daily  for  his  longer  life;  else  would  hei 
people,  nay  herself,  stand  in  need  of  cordials  too.”  To¬ 
gether  they  had  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  for  more  years 
than  Elizabeth  cared  to  remember;  facing  difficulties  and 
dangers;  loyal  to  each  other  and  their  country  which  owed 
years  of  peaceful  security  to  their  able  statesmanship. 

Lord  Burleigh  had  brought  up  his  daughter  Ann’s  three 
little  girls,  and  was  very  anxious  to  see  the  eldest,  Eliza¬ 
beth,  happily  married  before  he  died.  The  Earl  of  Oxford 


204  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

evinced  some  interest  in  his  daughters,  but  this  only 
quickened  their  grandfather’s  apprehension,  fearing  that 
after  his  death  the  Earl  might  contrive  to  get  hold  of 
them  and  dispose  of  them  as  he  willed.  If  Elizabeth  had 
a  home,  she  would  be  in  a  position  to  shelter  her  younger 
sisters,  so  Lord  Burleigh  spoke  very  seriously  to  her  on  the 
subject  of  matrimony.  He  suggested  the  Earl  of  North¬ 
umberland,  but  the  girl  replied,  as  Bridget  Manners  had 
done,  that  she  could  “not  fancy  him.” 

Lord  Burleigh  thought  the  Earl  of  Southampton  might 
prove  more  acceptable  to  his  granddaughter,  and  accord¬ 
ingly  wrote  to  his  lordship’s  mother  on  the  subjedh  The 
Countess  gave  ready  assent,  but  found  her  son  obdurate, 
for  though  he  wished  to  marry  one  of  the  Maids  of 
Honour,  and  an  Elizabeth  at  that,  her  surname  was 
Vernon,  not  Vere.  Eventually  Lord  Burleigh  contradled 
his  pretty  granddaughter  to  William,  Earl  of  Derby,  who 
had  recently  succeeded  to  the  title  on  the  death  of  his 
elder  brother.  The  Queen  took  an  adlive  interest  in  the 
wedding  festivities,  arranging  that  the  ceremony  should 
take  place  at  Greenwich  Palace.  She  sent  word  to  the  Lord 
Treasurer  that  she  should  expedt  him  to  come  and  dance 
at  the  ball,  but  Lord  Burleigh’s  dancing  days  were  over, 
though  he  appreciated  the  kind  thought  prompting  the 
invitation: 

“For  her  hope  to  have  me  dance,  I  must  have  longer 
tyme  to  learn  to  go,  but  I  will  be  ready  in  mynd  to  dance 
with  my  heart,  when  I  shall  behold  her  favourable  dis¬ 
position  to  do  such  honor  to  her  mayd  for  the  old  man’s 
sake.”1 

1  Queen  Elizabeth  and.  her  Times,  T.  Wright. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  205 

The  Maids  of  Honour  held  high  frolic  at  Elizabeth 
Vere’s  wedding,  for  the  revels  were  kept  up  for  several 
days  with  dancing,  masques  and  theatrical  performances. 
William  Shakespeare,  a  member  of  the  company  of 
players  under  the  patronage  of  Lord  Derby’s  late  brother, 
wrote  a  play  called  Midsummer  Night’s  Dream,1  to  be  per¬ 
formed  before  the  Queen  and  newly  married  Earl  and 
Countess  of  Derby. 

Bride  of  the  day  might  Elizabeth  Vere  be,  but  the 
dramatist  inserted  a  delicate  compliment  to  remind  the 
audience  that  Elizabeth  of  England  was  the  one  peerless 
virgin  whom  all  men  desired,  yet  none  could  win: 

“Since  once  I  sat  upon  a  promontory 
And  heard  a  mermaid,  on  a  dolphin’s  back, 

Uttering  such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath, 

That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song; 

And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres, 

To  hear  the  sea-maid’s  music. 

That  very  time  I  saw  (but  thou  couldst  not), 

Flying  between  the  cold  moon  and  the  earth, 

Cupid  all  arm’d;  a  certain  aim  he  took 
At  a  fair  vestal  throned  in  the  west: 

And  loos’d  his  love-shaft  smartly  from  his  bow, 

As  it  should  pierce  a  hundred  thousand  hearts: 

But  I  might  see  young  Cupid’s  fiery  shaft 
Quench’d  in  the  chaste  beams  of  the  wat’ry  moon 
And  the  imperial  vot’ress  passed  on. 

In  maiden  meditation,  fancy-free. 

Yet  mark’d  I  where  the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell: 

It  fell  upon  a  little  western  flower, 

Before  milk-white;  now  purple  with  love’s  wound: 

And  maidens  call  it  love-in-idleness.” 

1  Midsummer-Night' s  Dreavi  is  generally  supposed  to  have 
been  written  especially  for  this  Court  wedding. 


20 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Right  merrily  laughed  the  wedding  guests  at  “The  most 
lamentable  comedy,  and  most  cruel  death  of  Pyramus  and 
Thisbe,”  when  lusty  Bottom,  the  weaver,  wooed  Flute, 
the  bellow’s-mender,  a  coy  Thisbe,  chastely  masked  to 
conceal  an  incipient  beard.  Minor  a&ors  likewise  gained 
full  mead  of  applause;  few  could  resist  that  “fearsome 
wildfowl”  the  lion,  who  roared  as  gently  as  any  sucking 
dove,  entreating  the  ladies  not  to  be  affrighted,  for  in  very 
truth  the  lion’s  skin  contained  nothing  more  alarming 
than  honest  Snug,  the  joiner. 

Snout,  the  tinker,  tricked  out  with  loam  and  rough  cast, 
presented  a  comely  wall,  animated  by  engaging  adls  of 
courtesy. 

“Thou  wall,  O  wall,  O  sweet  and  lovely  wall, 

Show  me  thy  chink,  to  blink  through  with  mine  eye.” 

roared  Pyramus,  whereat  the  wall  immediately  held  up 
two  fingers  arched  to  form  a  peep-hole.  It  received 
nothing  but  abuse  in  return: 

“O  wicked  wall,  through  which  I  see  no  bliss.” 

accused  Pyramus,  because  forsooth,  the  bearded  Thisby 
had  failed  to  keep  the  appointment.  The  obliging  wall  kept 
its  chink  open  till  the  lady  arrived,  and  was  entreated  by 
her  lover: 

“O  kiss  me  through  the  hole  in  this  Vile  Wall.” 

After  this  crowning  ingratitude,  the  maligned  wall  closed 
its  chink  and  left  the  stage  with  dignity. 

Moonshine  next  captivated  the  audience,  when  it  en¬ 
tered  adequately  represented  by  a  man,  a  bush  and  a  dog 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  207 

and  a  lantern;  their  component  parts  being  explained  by 
the  man  in  order  to  prevent  misapprehension. 

“All  I  have  to  say;  is,  to  tell  you,  that  the  lantern  is  the 
moon;  and  the  man  is  the  man  in  the  moon:  this  thorn- 
bush  my  thorn  bush;  and  this  dog  my  dog.” 

Having  set  all  doubts  at  rest,  the  moon  took  up  its  posi¬ 
tion  on  the  stage  and  proceeded  to  shed  “sunny  beams” 
on  the  performers,  till  Pyramus  thoughtfully  suggested  its 
departure  before  he  committed  suicide.  The  audience, 
however,  had  one  more  opportunity  of  beholding  a  favour¬ 
ite  performer,  for  the  moon  returned  later,  accompanied 
by  the  lion,  in  order  to  bury  the  dead  and  tidy  up  the 
stage. 

Elizabeth  Vere’s  early  married  life  began  little  better 
than  her  mother’s  had  done,  for  the  Earl  of  Derby  proved 
a  jealous  husband.  His  young  wife’s  smiles  must  be  for 
him  alone,  and  he  would  rather  immune  her  in  the  depths 
of  the  country  than  that  she  should  see  or  speak  with 
other  men.  Young  Lady  Derby  differing  on  this  point,  he 
suddenly  took  her  away  from  London,  desiring  she  should 
live  “in  a  cell  unseen,”  said  her  friends  indignantly. 
Ladies  at  Court  wrote  to  the  lonely  little  bride,  thereby 
causing  fresh  trouble,  for  the  Earl  would  allow  her  to  hold 
no  communication  with  them.  Young  Lady  Derby’s  “only 
defence  was  the  patience  of  tears,”  but  it  roused  the  cham¬ 
pionship  of  the  household,  so  that  “they  all  went  to  my 
lord  when  he  was  booked  to  go  to  Court  and  leave  my 
lady  here  to  shift  for  herself,  and  told  him  that  as  they 
had  served  him  and  his  father  and  been  the  same  by  them, 


208  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

if  he  held  this  jealously  in  that  force  as  he  did,  themselves 
seeing  my  lady’s  carriage  of  herself  and  managing  my  lord¬ 
ship’s  estate  with  what  honourable  care  of  his  house  him¬ 
self  that  never  any  the  like,  if  he  would  hate  her  and  not 
desist  from  this  humour,  they  must  all  hate  him  and 
follow  her  in  those  honourable  courses  she  professeth  and 
performeth,  wishing  him  to  desist  from  this  jealousy  and 
bitterness  to  her  ladyship,  and  not  dishonour  himself,  or 
else  they  would  hate  him.”1 

Lady  Derby’s  relations,  too,  intervened,  Lord  Robert 
Cecil  writing  “to  comfort  her,”  and  to  the  Earl  in  plain 
terms,  telling  him  he  must  treat  his  wife  more  kindly.  The 
Earl  of  Oxford  also  bade  the  bridegroom  remember  how 
“young  and  tender”  the  girl  bride  was.  In  the  end  their 
entreaties,  backed  by  influence,  prevailed,  and  young 
Lady  Derby  returned  to  take  her  place  in  London  society. 

1  Salisbury  MSS.,  Vol.  VII. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


ROBERT  DEVEREUX,  the  young  Earl  of  Essex, 
occupied  a  unique  place  in  the  Queen’s  affedlion. 
Elizabeth,  though  she  would  not  admit  it,  was 
ageing,  and  with  creeping  time  came  the  tragedy  of  a 
lonely  old  age.  Strong-willed,  self-reliant  woman  that  she 
was,  Elizabeth,  with  no  ties  of  kindred,  came  to  feel  the 
need  of  some  outlet  for  her  affedtion.  Unfortunately,  both 
for  herself  and  for  him,  she  chose  for  this  purpose  the  son 
of  her  cousin  and  one  time  friend,  Lettice  Knollys. 

Elizabeth  at  first  humoured  the  youth  as  a  boy,  then 
grew  to  love  him,  not  as  she  had  done  his  stepfather,  the 
Earl  of  Leicester,  lover  of  her  youth,  but  with  the  self- 
centred  love  of  old  age.  He  formed  an  objedl  for  her 
thoughts,  some  one  to  think  of,  plan  for,  with  the  jealousy 
of  intense  affedfion. 

Lettice  Knollys,  who  soon  after  the  Earl  of  Leicester’s 
death  had  married  his  equerry,  Sir  Christopher  Blount, 
lived  with  him  at  Drayton  Basset  in  Staffordshire.  To 
Court  she  might  not  come,  and  with  the  ban  of  Elizabeth’s 
displeasure  upon  her  she  could  participate  but  little  in  the 
social  life  at  town.  Exiled  in  the  country,  Lettice  hun¬ 
gered  for  news  of  her  dearly  loved  son  who  had  embarked 
on  the  ambitious,  albeit  dangerous,  role  of  Queen’s 
favourite.  Lettice  knew  her  cousin  well;  in  the  arrogance 
of  her  own  girlish  beauty  she  had  triumphantly  wrested 
the  Earl  of  Leicester’s  allegiance.  Elizabeth  had  neither 
forgiven  nor  forgotten,  for  in  love  or  hatred  she  ever 


210  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

proved  relentless,  and  Lettice  fretted  sorely  for  her  boy, 
who  proved  a  negligent  correspondent. 

“Your  Lordship  is  grown,  I  will  not  say  slothful,  but 
somewhat  sparing  of  your  pen,  in  relieving  your  absent 
friends  both  with  news  of  your  welfare,  and  other  accounts 
(of  things)  there  happening,  which  we  cannot  but  desire 
to  hear  of  this  dangerous  time.  Wherefore,  do  not  think  to 
excuse  yourself  by  much  business,  which  I  know  you  want 
not;  for  I  must  have  you,  notwithstanding,  bestow  some¬ 
time  a  few  idle  lines  on  your  mother,  to  whom  they  are 
most  welcome,  and  who  otherwise  may  grow  jealous  that 
you  love  her  not  so  well  as  she  deserves,  which  blot  I  know 
you  will  take  away.  And,  as  she  hath  made  you  the  chief 
comfort  of  her  life,  so  I  doubt  not  of  your  noble  nature, 
but  that  you  will  be  careful  to  maintain  it  with  all  child¬ 
like  kindness.  So,  sweet  Robin,  praying  the  Almighty  to 
bless  you  with  all  most  honourable  happy  fortune,  I  end, 
remaining  ever  your  mother  infinitely  loving  you, 

L.  Leicester.” 

Essex,  petulant,  wayward,  fully  aware  of  his  hold  over 
the  Queen,  treated  her  with  wilful  caprice.  He  would  have 
all  her  favours  shown  to  him  alone,  flaring  out  in  anger  if 
she  showed  partiality  to  any  other.  Charles  Blount,1 
another  aspiring  courtier,  happening  to  distinguish  him¬ 
self  one  day  at  tilt,  Elizabeth  sent  him  a  richly  enamelled 
gold  chess  Queen  in  appreciation  of  his  prowess.  The 
young  man,  flattered  at  the  compliment,  appeared  next 
day  at  Court  with  the  token  tied  round  his  arm  by  a 
crimson  ribbon.  That  all  might  see,  and  seeing  envy,  he 

1  Second  son  of  James,  6th  Lord  Mountjoy,  succeeded  his 
brother  as  Lord  Mountjoy,  1 594. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  21  i 

walked  through  the  presence  chamber  carrying  his  cloak 
instead  of  wearing  it.  In  triumphant  progress  through  the 
room  he  encountered  my  Lord  of  Essex,  who,  turning  to 
Fulke  Greville,  inquired  what  such  ostentatious  wearing 
of  a  token  meant. 

“It  is  the  Queen’s  favour,”  replied  Greville. 

“Now  I  perceive  that  every  fool  must  have  his  favour,” 
sneered  Essex. 

This  uncomplimentary  remark  reaching  Blount’s  ears 
he  at  once  sent  the  Earl  a  challenge.  The  duel  took  place 
in  Marylebone  Park,  when  Essex  received  a  wound  in  his 
thigh.  Honour  being  satisfied,  the  two  enemies  made  up 
their  differences  and  became  fast  friends.  Hearing  of 
the  fray  the  Queen  swore,  “By  God’s  death  it  were  fitting 
some  one  should  take  the  young  Earl  down  and  teach 
him  better  manners,  or  there  would  be  no  rule  with  him.” 

Essex  soon  made  his  peace  as  well  he  knew  how  ;  a 
caressing  gesture,  a  few  endearing  words,  such  were  trea¬ 
sures  to  Elizabeth  by  their  rarity.  The  flowing  compli¬ 
ments  which  slipped  so  easily  from  Raleigh’s  facile  tongue 
were  difficult  to  Essex.  Indeed,  his  flattery  of  the  Queen 
was  so  stilted  that  Sir  Francis  Bacon  took  him  to  task  on 
the  subject,  saying,  “a  man  may  read  your  formality  in 
your  countenance;  whereas  it  ought  to  be  done  familiarly 
and  with  an  air  of  interest.” 

Frances  Walsingham,  Sir  Philip  Sidney’s  widow,  could 
have  told  the  Queen  the  difference  between  my  Lord  of 
Essex’s  real  and  artificial  love-making,  for  her  he  wooed, 
won  and  secretly  married.  The  news  when  it  came  to  the 
Queen’s  ears  caused  her  paroxysms  of  jealous  misery  which 


212  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

preyed  alike  on  mind  and  temper.  The  whole  Court  in 
general,  and  the  ladies  of  the  privy  chamber  in  particular, 
suffered  vicariously  as  an  apprehensive  courtier  informed 
Lord  Talbot: 

“If  she  could  overcome  her  passion  against  my  lord  of 
Essex  for  his  marriage,  no  doubt  she  would  be  much 
quieter;  yet  doth  she  use  it  more  temperately  than  was 
thought  for,  and  God  be  thanked,  doth  not  strike  all  she 
threats.  The  Earl  doth  use  it  with  good  temper,  concealing 
his  marriage  as  much  as  so  open  a  matter  may  be;  not  that 
he  denies  it  to  any,  but  for  her  majesty’s  better  satisfac¬ 
tion  is  pleased  that  my  lady  shall  live  very  retired  in  her 
mother’s  house.”1 

Before  long  both  Queen  and  wife  had  common  cause 
together,  for  neither  could  claim  Essex’s  vagrant  affedfion 
for  long,  and  he  began  to  pay  great  attention  to  Lady 
Mary  Howard,  Her  Majesty’s  pretty  cup-bearer.  That 
young  lady,  having  caught  the  favourite’s  eye,  did  her 
best  to  keep  it,  in  pursuance  whereof  she  decked  herself 
out, 

“With  silken  coats  and  caps  and  golden  rings. 

With  ruffs  and  cuffs  and  farthingales  and  things; 

W’ith  scarfs  and  fans  and  double  change  of  bravery.”2 

Very  pretty  indeed  looked  dainty  little  Lady  Mary  in 
her  new  velvet  dress  embroidered  with  pearls,  the  richness 
whereof  “moved  manie  to  envye.”  The  other  girls  admired 
it  excessively,  but  they  doubted  the  advisability  of  wear¬ 
ing  it  in  the  Queen’s  presence;  for  when  spread  out  in  all 
its  glory  over  a  stiff  farthingale  it  was  by  no  means  a  dress 
suitable  to  form  part  of  an  inconspicuous  background. 

1  Lodge’s  Illustrations,  Vol.  II.  2  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  IV,  3. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  213 

Lady  Mary,  a  self-willed  little  star  desirous  of  twinkling 
as  brightly  as  possible  in  defiance  of  the  Majestic  sun,  gave 
no  heed  to  such  prudent  comments,  and  determined  to 
wear  the  dress  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  In  preparation 
for  the  next  Court  function  Lady  Mary’s  tire-woman  had 
an  exacting  task,  but  there  was  every  reason  to  be  proud  of 
her  handiwork  when  the  young  lady  stood  ready  to  join 
the  other  Maids  of  Honour  in  the  presence  chamber. 

The  Queen,  gorgeously  clad  and  loaded  with  jewels, 
sat  beneath  a  canopy  of  state;  whilst  the  Maids  of 
Honour  grouped  themselves  to  form  a  silvery  setting, 
Lady  Mary  Howard,  in  her  beauty  and  gay  attire, 
stood  out  from  the  background  nearly  as  effectually  as 
Elizabeth,  a  radiant,  dazzling  little  sun  who  succeeded  in 
attracting  the  attention  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  as  she  wished, 
and  of  the  Queen  which  she  did  not  desire. 

Elizabeth’s  brow  darkened,  scenting  a  rival.  Lady  Mary 
daringly  confirmed  the  suspicion  by  wearing  the  dress 
again  and  again,  looking  more  bewitchingly  pretty  on  each 
occasion.  The  Queen,  though  holding  resolutely  to  the  de¬ 
lusion  that  her  own  beauty  remained  unimpaired  by  the 
ravages  of  time,  did  occasionally  experience  faint  qualms 
on  the  subjeCt.  These  she  stifled  by  the  comforting  theory 
that  outward  magnificence  in  apparel  discounted  wrinkles; 
therefore  she  held  that  Lady  Mary  attracted  the  Earl  of 
Essex  solely  by  a  dress  quite  unsuited  in  magnificence  for  a 
chit  of  a  girl. 

Long  brooding  over  the  matter,  Elizabeth  resolved  on 
revenge,  and  sent  a  waiting  woman  to  fetch  the  dress  from 
Lady  Mary’s  bedroom.  Close  examination  confirmed  its 


I 


214  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

richness;  the  Queen  must  needs  try  it  on.  She  was  tall, 
Lady  Mary  small,  so  the  dress  proved  too  short  and  too 
tight;  both  fresh  causes  for  resentment.  Still  wearing  it 
Elizabeth  marched  out  of  her  own  apartments  into  the 
Maids  of  Honours’  sitting-room. 

The  girls,  looking  up  from  their  work  and  books,  beheld 
an  astonishing  sight.  Lady  Mary  Howard’s  dress  undoubt¬ 
edly — they  recognized  it  immediately — but  instead  of 
Lady  Mary’s  piquant  little  face,  framed  by  a  lace  ruff  they 
beheld  the  painted  features  of  their  mistress,  whilst  the 
diminutiveness  of  the  gown  revealed  more  than  was 
comely  of  bare  arm  and  silk-stockinged  legs.  There  was  a 
glint  in  the  Queen’s  eye,  too,  that  betokened  trouble,  and 
the  girls  inwardly  thanked  their  stars  that  they  did  not 
stand  in  Lady  Mary’s  embroidered  slippers. 

Elizabeth  pranced  up  and  down  the  room,  a  grotesque, 
mirth-provoking  sight  if  the  ladies  had  not  been  far  too 
perturbed  for  their  own  safety  to  see  anything  amusing  in 
it.  The  Queen  further  added  to  their  discomfort  by  beg¬ 
ging  them  to  say  how  they  liked  her  “new  fancy  suit.”  At 
length,  halting  before  the  owner  of  the  dress,  Elizabeth 
asked  specifically  for  her  opinion. 

Elizabeth  being  Queen,  and  Lady  Mary  one  of  her 
ladies,  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  say  what  she  really 
thought  of  the  liberty  taken  with  her  dress,  so  she  re¬ 
mained  obstinately  silent.  The  new  wearer,  not  to  be  put 
off,  demanded  if  it  “was  not  made  too  short  and  ill- 
becoming.” 

Lady  Mary  with  rather  too  much  alacrity  agreed. 
“Why  then,”  snapped  the  Queen,  “if  it  becomes  not  me 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  215 

as  being  too  short,  I  am  minded  it  shall  never  become  you 
as  being  too  fine,  so  it  fitteth  neither  well.”1 

Lady  Mary’s  resentment  smouldered  over  the  loss  of 
her  dress,  and  in  revenge  she  flirted  more  than  ever  with 
my  Lord  of  Essex,  to  the  negledl  of  her  Court  duties. 
When  the  Queen  walked  in  the  garden,  Lady  Mary  re¬ 
fused  to  carry  her  cloak;  being  well  chidden  on  this  ac¬ 
count  she  answered  back.  Elizabeth  was  not  accustomed 
to  being  answered  back  by  anybody,  least  of  all  by  one  of 
her  own  Maids  of  Honour,  and  extremely  choleric  did  it 
render  Her  Majesty. 

The  Queen  went  to  prayers;  but  no  Lady  Mary  walked 
in  her  train  with  the  other  Maids  of  Honour.  Neither  did 
she  come  to  assist  in  laying  Her  Majesty’s  table  for  dinner, 
a  ceremony  performed  with  much  veneration  by  the 
ladies  during  service  time.  Two  of  them  entered  the  room, 
one  carrying  a  tasting  knife;  three  deep  curtsies  they  made, 
then  proceeded  to  rub  the  plates  with  bread  and  salt.  Up 
came  twenty-four  stalwart  yeomen  of  the  guard,  scarlet 
clad,  with  a  golden  Tudor  rose  blazoned  on  their  backs. 
Each  man  carried  a  dish,  wherein  the  lady  taster  dipped 
her  knife,  giving  every  man  a  mouthful  of  the  dish  he 
carried,  so  that  if  poison  had  been  introduced  into  its 
composition,  the  effedl  should  immediately  become  appa¬ 
rent  in  the  health  of  the  yeoman  waiter.  The  tasting  cere¬ 
mony  ended,  the  Maids  of  Honour  took  charge  of  the 
dishes  and  carried  them  into  the  Queen’s  apartments,  for 
except  on  public  festivals  she  dined  in  private,  waited 
upon  by  her  ladies. 

1  Sir  J.  Harrington’s  Nu^ce  Antique, 


21 6  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Lady  Mary  Howard  filled  the  office  of  cup-bearer,  but 
when  the  Queen  wished  to  drink  no  Lady  Mary  was  forth¬ 
coming.  Elizabeth’s  anger  grew  apace,  fed  by  the  thought 
that  if  Lady  Mary  was  not  where  she  should  be — on  her 
knees  holding  “the  cup  of  grace” — she  was  undoubtedly 
where  she  should  not  be,  namely,  in  the  company  of  the 
Earl  of  Essex. 

Lady  Mary,  when  scolded  for  “an  ungracious  flouting 
wench,”  shrugged  rebellious  shoulders  and  continued  to 
defy  the  Queen’s  authority,  to  the  alarm  of  her  friends, 
for  it  was  no  light  thing  to  sink  so  deeply  in  Her  Majesty’s 
displeasure.  They  gave  the  wilful  beauty  much  good 
advice,  beseeching  her  “to  be  more  dutiful,  and  not  to 
absent  herself  at  meals,  or  prayers,  to  bear  her  Highnesses’ 
mantle  and  other  furniture,  even  more  than  all  the  rest  of 
the  servants  to  make  ample  amends  by  future  diligence; 
and  always  to  go  first  in  the  morning  to  her  Highness’s 
chamber,  forasmuch  as  such  kindness  will  much  prevail  to 
turne  away  all  former  displeasure.  She  must  not  entertaine 
my  lord  the  Earl  in  any  conversation,  but  shunne  his  com- 
panye;  and  moreover  be  less  carefull  in  attiringe  her  own 
person,  for  this  seemethe  has  done  more  to  win  the  Earl, 
than  her  mistress’s  goodwill.”1 

The  favourites  indulged  in  flirtations  with  the  Maids  of 
Honour  as  much  to  vary  the  monotony  of  Court  life  as  for 
any  other  reason.  Young  ambitious  men  like  Essex  and 
Blount  thirsted  for  adventure  or  martial  glory,  but  such 
hazardous  enterprises  were  not  for  those  who  had  won  a 
niche  in  the  Queen’s  affeftions.  Remembering  how  Philip 
1  Sir  J.  Harrington’s  Nugcz  Antique -e. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  217 

Sidney  met  his  death  in  battle,  she  would  run  no  more 
risks.  Favourites  might  fret,  fume  and  entreat,  but  all  to 
no  purpose;  set  foot  on  the  path  which  might  lead  indis¬ 
criminately  to  death  or  glory  they  should  not.  Sir  Charles 
Blount  made  a  bolt  for  it  and  joined  the  troops  abroad, 
but  the  commanding  general  received  prompt  orders  to 
send  him  back  at  once.  The  Queen  reproached  the  would- 
be  warrior  angrily:  “Serve  me  so  once  more,  and  I  will  lay 
you  fast  enough  for  running.  You  will  never  leave  it  until 
you  are  knocked  on  the  head,  as  that  inconsiderate  fellow 
Sidney  was.  You  shall  go  when  I  send  you,  and  in  the 
meantime  see  that  you  lodge  in  the  Court,  where  you  may 
follow  your  book,  read  and  discourse  of  the  wars.”1 

Essex  laid  his  plans  better  when  he  secretly  resolved  to 
go  with  the  expedition,  setting  forth  to  assist  the  Portu¬ 
guese  against  the  Spaniards.  He  wrote  forty  letters  to  the 
Queen  and  Council  in  which  he  declared  his  inviolable  in¬ 
tention  of  going  to  sea,  coupled  with  the  resolution,  “not 
to  be  stayed  by  any  commandment  excepting  death.” 
Stealing  away  from  Court,  he  started  off  for  Plymouth  as 
fast  as  relays  of  horse  could  go.  Knowing  pursuit  would 
assuredly  follow  hot  on  his  heels,  he  persuaded  the  captain 
of  the  Szviftsure  to  set  sail  without  waiting  for  the  rest  of 
the  fleet.  By  this  means  the  favourite  was  well  out  to  sea 
before  his  uncle,  Sir  William  Knollys,  arrived  at  Plymouth 
with  peremptory  orders  for  his  return  to  Court. 

Short  was  my  lord’s  freedom;  great  his  daring  while 
it  lasted.  Wading  through  the  surf,  he  was  the  first  man 
to  set  foot  on  the  Portuguese  shore.  At  Lisbon  with 
1  Naunton’s  Fragmenta  Regalia. 


218  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

exaggerated  bravado  he  approached  the  gates,  challenging 
any  Spaniard  within  the  town  to  come  out  and  fight  him 
single-handed. 

Other  deeds  of  derring-do  would  he  have  had  to  his 
credit  had  not  vessels  arrived  from  England  bearing  such 
angry  letters  from  the  Queen,  that  Sir  Francis  Drake  in 
alarm  refused  to  be  answerable  any  longer  for  so  precious 
a  personage  as  Her  Majesty’s  chief  favourite,  and  back  to 
England  perforce  had  my  Lord  of  Essex  to  go. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


A  N  autumn  progress,  when  Elizabeth  visited  Lady 

/  %  Russell1  at  Bisham  and  Lord  and  Lady  Chandos2 
Jl.  JA.at  Sudley,  resulted  in  the  appointments  of 
Elizabeth  and  Anne  Russell,  and  Elizabeth  Bridges,  to 
places  in  the  privy  chamber.  Sheep  farming  had  brought 
wealth  to  the  breezy  Cotswolds,  and  when  Elizabeth 
came  to  Court,  as  her  aunts,  Catherine  and  Eleanor 
Bridges,  had  done  before  her,  the  account  of  her  reputed 
wealth  occasioned  great  excitement.  She  had  been  sought 
in  marriage  since  the  age  of  seven,  when  her  mother  wrote 
specifically  to  the  Earl  of  Rutland  concerning  the  child’s 
dowry. 

“My  Lord  and  I  do  not  doubt  your  plain  dealing  in  this 
matter  which  touches  us  nearest  of  anything  in  the  world, 
and  therefore  we  are  ready  to  inform  you  what  revenue 
and  portion  will  come  to  Bess.  On  these  points  my  Lord 
says  that  if  he  have  no  son  he  will  assure  Studley  to  her 
after  his  and  my  decease,  and  that  he  will  give  her  a 
lordship  called  Elton,  immediately  upon  her  marriage, 
which  will  be  worth  £ 600  a  year  within  eight  years  of  the 
marriage.  If  my  Lord  have  a  son  she  shall  have  £4000 
more  which  will  be  charged  upon  Studley.  When  it  was 
desired  to  know  my  maid’s  liking  she  answered  that  for 
the  little  time  she  was  in  my  lord’s  company  she  saw 

1  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Sir  Anthony  Cook,  and  sister  of  Lady 
Burleigh  and  Lady  Bacon.  She  married,  1st,  Sir  Thomas  Hobby; 
2ndly,  Lord  Russell. 

2  Giles,  2nd  Lord  Chandos,  had  no  son,  his  two  daughters, 
Elizabeth,  aged  sixteen,  and  Catherine,  aged  fourteen,  being  his 
heiresses. 


219 


220  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

nothing  in  him  but  what  was  worthy  of  commendation. 
As  for  the  suitors,  I  cannot  deny  these  are  of  the  best  sort 
who  are  anxious  to  marry  her.  We  have  another  daughter1 
of  five  years  of  age.  My  lord  is  desirous  to  understand  the 
young  lords  estate  and  what  jointure  he  will  give,  and  if 
these  offers  are  agreed  to  and  liked,  my  lord  would  have 
the  match  concluded  without  delay.”2 

Negotiations  for  this  match  fell  through,  and  “Bess” 
arrived  at  Whitehall  aged  fifteen,  “a  very  fine  gentle¬ 
woman,  very  fayre,  and  a  great  rich  marriage,”3  as  a 
Court  gossip  chronicled.  The  girl  might  have  great 
expeditions,  and  a  set  of  diamonds  calculated  to  arouse 
the  envy  of  all  the  ladies  in  the  privy  chamber,  but  during 
her  father’s  lifetime  she  was  uncommonly  short  of  ready 
money.  Young,  inexperienced,  and  naturally  extravagant, 
Elizabeth  very  soon  ran  through  her  allowance  and  got 
into  debt.  She  dared  not  apply  to  her  father  for  more 
money,  nor  did  she  like  to  approach  her  grandmother, 
“old  lady  Chandos”4  who  lived  with  her  second  husband, 
Sir  William  Knollys,  in  a  house  adjoining  the  tilt  yard. 
Creditors  proving  insistent,  Elizabeth  pledged  one  of  her 
diamonds  with  a  merchant  in  St.  Paul’s  churchyard. 
This  expedient  afforded  only  temporary  relief,  and  when 

1  Catherine,  married  Francis,  Lord  Russell,  afterwards  Earl  of 
Bedford. 

2  Duke  of  Rutland’s  MSS.,  Hist.  MSS.  Com. 

3  Philip  Gaudy’s  Letters. 

4  Dorothy,  d.  and  heiress  of  Edmund  Lord  Braye.  She  was  the 
mother  of  Catherine  and  Eleanor  Bridges.  After  Lord  Chandos’s 
death  in  1573  she  married  Sir  William  Knollys,  a  man  many  years 
younger  than  herself. 


Coll,  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford 

ELIZABETH  BRIDGES  AS  A  GIRL  OF  14 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  221 

Lord  Chandos  died,  a  few  weeks  later,  the  heiress  wanted 
her  portion  at  once  without  waiting  for  legal  formalities. 

One,  Charles  Lister,  knowing  Mistress  Bridges’s 
present  poverty  and  future  wealth,  determined  to  make 
use  of  one  to  obtain  the  other.  In  the  course  of  an  inter¬ 
view  he  proposed  himself  as  a  suitor,  promising  that  if 
accepted  he  would  advance  her  what  money  she  needed 
for  present  necessities. 

Elizabeth,  though  she  would  make  no  definite  promise, 
said  she  would  think  the  matter  over,  on  the  strength  of 
which  Mr.  Lister  made  her  a  present  of  a  pearl  chain,  and 
advanced  £150  in  cash;  further,  he  undertook  to  redeem 
her  diamonds.  Money  melted  away  in  Elizabeth’s  fingers, 
and  very  soon  she  wanted  more:  .£150  to  invest  in  a  sea¬ 
going  venture,  and  £10  to  pay  a  doctor’s  bill.  These 
sums  she  wheedled  out  of  Mr.  Lister,  as  well  as  a  set  of 
tapestry  for  her  bedroom,  and  a  .£30  silver  ewer  and  basin. 
Satisfied  with  his  choice  in  these  articles,  she  next  com¬ 
missioned  her  love  to  visit  the  mercers’  shops  in  Cheapside, 
to  buy  “some  taffeta  to  make  her  a  saveguard,  also  some 
lawn  for  ruffs,  linen  and  other  things  to  the  value  of 

&0.”1 

These  orders  fulfilled  and  the  diamonds  restored  to 
their  owner,  Charles  Lister  gave  Mistress  Bridges  a 
pendant  which  delighted  her  so  much,  that  she  declared 
it  should  be  a  token  between  them  for  the  rest  of  their 
lives. 

On  the  strength  of  this  the  gentleman  pressed  for  a 
formal  betrothal,  but  on  this  point  Mistress  Bridges 

1  Affidavitt  of  Charles  Lister.  Domestic  State  Papers,  1598. 


222  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 


proved  so  elusive  that  it  gradually  dawned  on  him  that  she 
had  no  intention  of  marrying  him.  Resolved  on  this 
point,  Mr.  Lister  at  once  instituted  legal  proceedings  for 
the  recovery  of  all  presents  and  money  advanced. 

The  girl’s  wealth,  which  exposed  her  to  the  wiles  of 
fortune  hunters,  also  formed  the  subjedf  of  bickering 
with  her  uncle  William,  Lord  Chandos,  who  had 
succeeded  to  the  title.  Efforts  were  made  to  bring  about  a 
marriage  between  Elizabeth  and  her  cousin,  Grey 
Brydges1 2  “whereby  all  suits  and  quarrels  should  be 
concluded.”* 

This  fell  through,  when  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  also  men¬ 
tioned  as  a  possible  husband  for  the  lady,  tried  “to 
compose  the  difference  between  Lord  Chandos  and 
Mistress  Brydges,  and  engaged  that  if  she  might  have 
Sudley  for  life,  she  would  leave  all  her  title  and  interest 
to  the  inheritance  but  he  takes  advantage  of  her  disgrace 
and  hopes  to  possess  it  shortly.”3 

The  disgrace  alluded  to  meant  that  the  Earl  of  Essex 
had  looked  too  favourably  upon  Elizabeth  Bridges,  and 
the  Queen  was  jealous.  An  alarmed  Court  watched  the 
flirtation  in  dismay;  one  letter  writer  in  cautious  cipher 
voiced  the  consternation  of  many: 

“I  know  you  will  be  sorry  to  hear  what  grives  me  to 
wryte  of;  yt  is  spied  out  by  envy  that  1,000  (Essex)  is 

1  Grey  Brydge,  5th  Lord  Chandos,  kept  such  open  house  that 
he  was  called  “King  of  Cotswold.”  He  married  Lady  Anne 
Stanley,  daughter  and  co-heir  of  Ferdinando,  5th  Earl  of  Derby. 
He  died  August  10,  1621. 

2  Letters  of  John  Chamberlain.  3  Domestic  State  Papers. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  223 

again  fallen  in  love  with  his  fairest  B.  Yt  cannot  chuse 
but  come  to  1,500  (Queen’s)  ears;  and  then  he  is  undone, 
and  all  they  that  depend  on  his  favour.”1 

Elizabeth  Bridges  brought  matters  to  a  head  one 
afternoon,  by  persuading  Bess  Russell  to  slip  away  from 
the  privy  chamber,  in  order  to  watch  the  Earl  of  Essex 
play  at  Balloon,  in  one  of  the  covered  courts  in  the  palace 
grounds.  The  game  waxed  fast  and  furious  as  my  Lord  of 
Essex,  stimulated  by  the  knowledge  that  Mistress  Bridges 
sat  among  the  spedlators  in  the  gallery,  hit  the  leather 
wind  balls  to  and  fro. 

Presently  came  interruption;  a  message  to  say  that 
Her  Majesty  commanded  the  immediate  return  of 
Mistress  Bridges  and  Mistress  Russell.  The  truants 
returned  to  the  privy  chamber  in  no  little  perturbation, 
nor  were  their  fears  by  any  means  unfounded,  when  they 
stood  downcast  before  a  very  angry  mistress.  Elizabeth 
indeed  “used  the  fair  Mistress  Brydges  with  words  and 
blows  of  anger,”1  and  banished  both  girls  from  Court 
for  three  days  by  way  of  punishment. 

Though  Elizabeth  Bridges  might  be  the  greatest  heiress 
at  Court,  she  had  a  rival  and  namesake  in  the  city, 
Mistress  Elizabeth  Spencer,  only  daughter  of  Sir  John 
Spencer2  formerly  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  Many 
courtiers  would  like  to  have  married  “Rich  Spencer’s” 
only  child,  and  the  young  lady  inclined  quite  favourably 

1  Collins’  Sydney  Papers. 

2  Sir  John  Spencer,  a  successful  merchant,  trading  largely  with 
Spain,  Turkey  and  Italy,  Lord  Mayor  1584-5.  Kept  his  Mayoralty 
with  great  magnificence  at  Crosby  Place  in  Bishopsgate  Street. 
Queen  Elizabeth  visited  him  at  Canonbury  House,  Islington. 


224  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

to  Lord  Compton1,  famous  for  his  prowesss  in  the  tilt 
yard,  where  he  appeared  as  the  “White  Knight.” 

“His  courser  trapp’d  in  white,  and  plumes  and  staves 
Of  snowy  hue,  and  squires  in  fair  array, 

Waiting  their  lord’s  good  fortune  in  the  field; 

His  armour  glittering  like  the  moon’s  bright  rays, 

On  that  clear  silver  path,  the  milk-white  way, 

That  in  Olympus  leads  to  Jove’s  high  Court.”2 

Unfortunately,  the  lady’s  consent  alone  did  not  suffice, 
and  Sir  John  flatly  refused  to  give  his.  As  Mistress 
Elizabeth  still  proved  obstinate,  her  father,  to  demon¬ 
strate  his  complete  authority  over  a  disobedient  child, 
chastised  her  soundly  and  shut  her  up.  The  girl,  spoilt 
and  indulged  all  her  life  hitherto,  was  infuriated  at  such 
treatment,  and  found  means  to  communicate  with  her 
lover.  Lord  Compton,  having  Court  influence  behind 
him,  managed  to  get  Sir  John  Spencer,  one  time  Lord 
Mayor  of  London,  committed  to  the  Fleet  prison  on  the 
charge  of  having  ill  treated  his  only  daughter.  He  soon 
obtained  release,  and  returned  home  more  determined 
than  ever  that  the  spoilt  little  hussy  should  not  marry  my 
Lord  Compton.  Elizabeth  having  inherited  her  parent’s 
obstinacy,  was  equally  resolved  that  she  would,  though 
finding  herself  so  closely  guarded  escape  seemed  well-nigh 
impossible. 

Lord  Compton  set  his  wits  to  work,  with  the  result  that, 
in  disguise  as  a  baker’s  man,  he  obtained  entrance  to 

1  William,  son  of  Henry,  1st  Lord  Compton.  Created  Earl  of 
Northampton,  died  1630. 

2  Polyhymnia,  George  Peele. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  225 

Canonbury  House,  carrying  the  large  basket  of  his 
supposed  calling.  When  he  left  a  little  later  bearing  the 
basket  on  his  back,  it  contained  not  wheaten  loaves,  but 
Mistress  Elizabeth  Spencer,  the  city  heiress. 

The  irate  father,  when  he  discovered  the  elopement, 
promptly  disowned  his  daughter,  nor  did  he  show  the 
slightest  signs  of  relenting  when  Lady  Compton  made 
him  a  grandfather.  Things  began  to  look  rather  blue  for 
the  rash  young  couple,  who  carried  the  tale  of  their  woe 
to  Queen  Elizabeth.  She  promised  to  bring  about  a 
reconciliation  with  Sir  John  Spencer,  and  also  to  stand 
godmother  to  the  baby.  In  pursuance  of  this  plan  the 
Queen  wrote  to  Sir  John  asking  if  he  would  stand  fellow 
gossip  with  her  at  the  christening  of  a  child  of  a  young 
couple  in  whom  she  was  interested.  Sir  John  accepted, 
and  at  the  christening  ceremony  Elizabeth  named  the 
child  Spencer  after  his  godfather.  Sir  John,  in  high  good 
humour,  assured  the  Queen  that,  having  disowned  his 
daughter,  he  intended  to  take  great  interest  in  little 
Spencer,  and  to  make  him  his  heir.  On  hearing  these 
encouraging  words  Lord  and  Lady  Compton,  who  had 
remained  hidden  spectators  of  the  christening  ceremony, 
stepped  from  behind  the  arras,  revealed  the  baby’s 
parentage,  and  received  Sir  John’s  pardon. 

Lady  Compton,  translated  from  city  to  Court,  held 
very  decided  ideas  as  to  the  state  appertaining  to  a  lady 
of  title,  and  when  her  husband  came  into  some  money  she 
definitely  defined  her  wishes: 

“My  sweet  Life, — Now  I  have  declared  to  you  my 
mind  for  the  settling  of  your  estate,  I  supposed  that  that 
Q 


,226  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

were  best  for  me  to  bethink  or  consider  with  myself  what 
allowance  were  meetest  for  me.  For  considering  what 
ease  I  ever  had  of  your  estate,  and  how  respectfully  I 
dealt  with  those,  which  both  by  the  law  of  God,  of 
nature,  and  civil  polity,  is  religion,  government,  and 
honesty,  you,  my  dear,  are  bound  to,  I  pray  and  beseech 
you  to  grant  to  me,  your  most  kind  and  loving  wife,  the 
sum  of  ^1600  per  annum,  quarterly  to  be  paid.  Also  I 
would,  besides  that  allowance  for  my  apparel,  have 
£ 600 ,  added  yearly  (quarterly  to  be  paid)  for  the  per¬ 
formance  of  charitable  works,  and  these  things  I  would 
not,  neither  will  be  accountable  for. 

Also  I  will  have  three  horses  for  my  own  saddle,  that 
none  shall  dare  to  lend  or  borrow;  none  lend  but  I,  none 
borrow  but  you. 

Also  I  would  have  two  gentlewomen,  lest  one  should 
be  sick  or  have  some  other  lett.  Also  believe  that  it  is  an 
indecent  thing  for  a  gentlewoman  to  stand  mumping 
alone  when  God  hath  blessed  their  Lord  and  Lady  with  a 
great  estate. 

Also  when  I  ride  a  hunting,  or  a  hawking,  or  travel  from 
one  house  to  another,  I  will  have  them  attending.  So  for 
either  of  these  said  women,  I  must  and  will  have  for 
either  of  them  a  horse. 

Also  I  will  have  six  or  eight  gentlemen;  and  I  will  have 
my  two  coaches,  one  lined  with  velvet  for  myself,  with 
four  very  fair  horses;  and  a  coach  for  my  women,  lined 
with  sweet  cloth,  one  laced  with  gold,  the  other  with 
scarlet,  and  lined  with  watched  lace  and  silver,  with  four 
good  horses. 

Also  I  will  have  two  coachmen,  one  for  my  own  coach, 
the  other  for  my  women. 

Also  at  any  time  when  I  travel,  I  will  be  allowed  not 
only  carroches  and  spare  horses  for  me  and  my  women, 
but  I  will  have  such  carriages  as  shall  be  fitting  for  all, 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  227 

orderly,  not  posturing  my  things  with  my  women’s,  not 
theirs  with  chamber-maids,  not  theirs  with  wash-maids. 

Also  for  laundresses,  when  I  travel,  I  will  have  them 
sent  away  before  with  the  carriages  to  see  all  safe;  and 
the  chamber-maids  I  will  have  go  before  with  the  grooms, 
that  the  chambers  may  be  ready,  sweet  and  clean. 

Also,  for  that  it  is  undecent  to  crowd  up  myself  with 
my  gentleman-usher  in  my  coach,  I  will  have  him  to 
have  a  convenient  horse,  to  attend  me  either  in  city  or 
country.  And  I  must  have  two  footmen.  And  my  desire 
is,  that  you  defray  all  the  charges  for  me.  And  for 
myself,  besides  my  yearly  allowance,  I  would  have 
twenty  gowns  of  apparel,  six  of  them  excellent  good 
ones,  eight  of  them  for  the  country,  and  six  other  of 
them  very  excellent  good  ones. 

Also  I  will  have  it  put  in  my  purse,  £ 2,000  and  £200; 
and  so  you  to  pay  my  debts. 

Also  I  would  have  £6,000  to  buy  me  jewels,  and 
,£4,000  to  buy  me  a  pearl  chain. 

Now,  seeing  I  have  been  and  am  so  reasonable  unto 
you,  I  pray  you  find  all  my  servants,  and  men  and  women, 
their  wages. 

Also  I  will  have  all  my  house  furnished,  and  all  my 
lodging  chambers  to  be  suited  with  all  such  furniture  as  is 
fit;  as  beds,  stools,  chairs,  suitable  cushions,  carpets, 
silver  warming  pans,  cupboards  of  plate,  fair  hangings, 
and  such  like.  So  to  my  drawing-chamber  in  all  houses,  I 
will  have  them  delicately  furnished,  both  with  hangings, 
couch,  canopy,  glass,  carpet,  chair,  cushions,  and  all 
things  therewith  belonging. 

Also  my  desire  is,  that  you  would  pay  your  debts, 
build  Ashly  House,  and  purchase  lands;  and  lend  no 
money,  as  you  love  God,  to  the  Lord  Chamberlain,1 
which  would  have  all,  perhaps  your  life,  from  you. 

1  Thomas  Howard,  Earl  of  Suffolk,  made  Treasurer  1603. 


228  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Remember  his  son,  my  Lord  Walden,  what  entertain¬ 
ment  he  gave  me  when  you  were  at  the  tilt  yard.  If  you 
were  dead,  he  said  he  would  be  a  husband,  a  father,  a 
brother,  and  said  he  would  marry  me.  I  protest  I  grieve 
to  see  the  poor  man  have  so  little  wit  and  honesty  to  use 
his  friend  so  vilely.  Also  he  fed  me  with  untruths  concern¬ 
ing  the  Charterhouse;  but  that  to  the  least  he  wished  me 
much  harm:  you  know  him,  God  keep  you  and  me  from 
him,  and  any  such. 

So  now  that  I  have  declared  to  you  what  I  would 
have,  and  what  there  is  I  would  not  have,  I  pray  when 
you  be  an  Earl,  to  allow  me  £1,000  more  than  now 
desired,  and  double  attendance. 

Your  loving  wife, 

Eliza  Compton.”1 

1  Goodman’s  Court  of  King  James.  On  the  death  of  her  father, 
Lady  Compton  inherited  a  fortune  of  £300,000,  which  so  exceeded 
her  husband’s  expectations  that  he  nearly  lost  his  wits. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


HENRY  WRIOTHESLEY,  3rd  Earl  of  South¬ 
ampton,  succeeded  Sir  Philip  Sidney  as  chief 
literary  patron  of  the  day.  Thomas  .  Nash 
acclaimed  him  “as  a  dear  lover  and  cherisher  as  well  of 
the  lovers  of  poets  as  of  the  poets  themselves.”  Camden, 
Barnes,  Chapman,  Daniel,  Markham,  all  paid  tribute  to 
his  interest  in  literature,  summed  up  in  the  elegy  by 
Sir  John  Beaumont: 

“I  keep  that  glory  last,  which  is  the  best; 

The  love  of  learning,  which  he  oft  exprest 
By  conversation,  and  respect  to  those 
Who  had  a  name  in  arts,  in  verse  or  prose.” 

The  theatre  in  particular  owed  much  to  Southampton’s 
championship  during  the  days  of  its  early  difficulties. 
Strolling  players,  classified  under  statute  as  “Rogues  and 
Vagabonds,”  met  with  strenuous  opposition  when  they 
strove  to  standardize  their  profession  by  the  establish¬ 
ment  of  public  theatres.  Proprietors  of  the  Paris  Gardens 
at  Southwark  made  loud  outcry  that,  if  allowed  on 
weekdays,  the  counter-attradfion  would  ruin  the  “sweet 
and  comfortable  sport  of  bear  baiting.”  Plays  then  being 
licensed  on  Sundays,  Gosson  in  his  School  oj  Abuse 
declared  that  theatrical  companies,  “because  they  are 
allowed  to  play  every  Sunday,  make  four  or  five  Sundays 
at  least  every  week.”  The  Puritans,  too,  who  hated  bear 
gardens  much,  but  theatres  more,  grumbled  that  the 
noise  made  by  the  drums  and  trumpets  drowned  the 
sound  of  the  church  bells. 


229 


230  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Notwithstanding  opposition  public  interest  in  the 
drama  rapidly  increased,  backed  as  it  was  by  the  powerful 
patronage  of  the  Queen  and  the  nobility.  Among  the 
latter  the  Earl  of  Southampton  took  chief  place,  being 
not  only  the  patron,  but  warm  friend  of  William  Shake¬ 
speare,1  who  in  the  dedication  of  The  Rape  oj  Lucrece 
wrote: 

“The  love  I  dedicate  to  your  Lordship  is  without  end; 
whereof  this  phamphlet  without  begining,  is  but  a 
superfluous  moiety.  The  warrant  I  have  of  your  honour¬ 
able  disposition,  not  the  worth  of  my  untutor’d  lines, 
makes  it  assured  of  acceptance.  What  I  have  is  yours; 
what  I  have  to  do  is  yours;  being  part  in  all  I  have, 
devoted  yours.  Were  my  worth  greater,  my  duty  would 
show  greater;  meantime,  as  it  is,  it  is  bound  to  your 
Lordship,  to  whom  I  wish  long  life,  still  lengthen’d  with 
all  happiness.” 

Several  of  Shakespeare’s  plays  were  produced  at  Court, 
to  the  very  great  delight  of  Elizabeth  and  her  ladies.  So 
unrestrainedly  did  they  all  laugh  at  the  heroic  adventures 
of  Sir  John  Falstaff  in  King  Henry  IV ,  that  the  Queen 
expressed  a  desire  to  see  him  play  the  part  of  lover. 
Shakespeare  speedily  gratified  this  wish  by  writing 
1 he  Merry  Wives  oj  Windsor ,  where  the  fat  knight 
disported  himself  with  Mistress  Page  and  Mistress 
Quickly,  the  scene  being  set  in  Her  Majesty’s  own  royal 
park  at  Windsor. 

Throughout  all  these  amusements,  the  Earl  of  South¬ 
ampton  did  “with  too  much  familiarity  court  the  faire 

1  Southampton  has  been  suggested  as  the  original  of  Mr. 
“W.H.”  of  Shakespeare’s  sonnets. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  231 

Mistress  Vernon.”1  The  unwisdom  of  this  course  was 
apparent  to  all,  for  though  not  beloved  by  the  Queen 
as  his  friend,  the  Earl  of  Essex,  yet  he  enjoyed  a  consider¬ 
able  amount  of  her  favour,  and  young  men  who  attained 
such  distinction  might  not  pay  attention  to  the  Maids 
of  Honour  with  any  safety. 

Matters  came  to  a  head  when  the  Earl  got  into  trouble 
through  making  too  much  noise  in  the  presence  chamber 
after  the  Queen  had  retired  to  rest.  He,  with  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  (recently  received  back  into  favour),  and  other 
courtiers  playing  a  game  of  Primero,  grew  so  uproarious 
that  Ambrose  Willoughby,  an  esquire  of  the  body,  bade 
them  be  quiet  or  they  would  disturb  Her  Majesty.  As 
they  paid  no  heed  to  this  admonition,  Sir  Ambrose 
threatened  to  call  in  the  guard,  whereat  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  seeing  how  far  things  had  gone,  put  up  his  cards 
and  left  the  room.  The  Earl  of  Southampton  followed, 
but  in  anger,  meditating  revenge.  Next  morning, 
chancing  to  meet  Sir  Ambrose  by  the  tennis  court,  he 
struck  him,  whereupon  Sir  Ambrose  caught  hold  of  the 
Earl’s  long  auburn  curls  and  pulled  out  a  handful  with 
vengeful  force.  Great  to-do  followed,  but  the  Queen 
upheld  Sir  Ambrose,  “and  told  hym  he  had  donne  better, 
if  he  had  sent  hym  to  the  porter’s  lodge  to  see  who  durst 
have  fetched  him  out.” 

Southampton,  considering  himself  affronted,  requested 
leave  to  travel  abroad,  though  at  the  very  thought  “his 
fayre  mistress  doth  wash  her  fairest  face  with  too  many 
tears.”  As  Sir  Robert  Cecil  happened  to  be  going  over  to 

1  Rowland  Whyte  to  Sir  Robert  Sidney. 


232  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

France,  Southampton  accompanied  him,  leaving  behind 
“a  very  desolate  gentlewoman  that  hath  almost  wept  out 
her  fairest  eyes.”1 

Life  might  be  a  drear  matter  for  Elizabeth  Vernon, 
but  the  other  Maids  of  Honour,  unaffedfed  by  the  Earl  of 
Southampton’s  departure,  found  a  new  excitement  in  the 
rivalry  between  Margaret  Rat  cliff  e*  and  Lady  Kildare3 
for  the  affedfion  of  Lord  Cobham.4  Both  ladies  flaunted 
exceedingly  in  gay  apparel,  and  on  Shrove  Sunday,  1597, 
Margaret  Ratcliffe,  whose  indulgent  brother,  Alexander 
Ratcliffe,  kept  her  well  supplied  with  pocket  money, 
presented  a  striking  contrast  to  poor  woebegone  Elizabeth 
Vernon,  as  a  visitor  to  Court  bore  testimony: 

“Yesterday  did  Mistress  Ratcliffe  weare  a  whyte 
satten  gown,  all  embrodered,  rich  cutt  upon  cloth  of 
silver  that  cost  £180.  But  the  farest  doth  take  pleasure 
in  nothing  since  the  departure  of  her  beloved.  Her 
garments,  countenance,  and  gestures,  witness  no  less; 
besides  a  kind  of  unwonted  solitarines  which  is  familiar 
unto  her.”5 

Elizabeth  Vernon  spent  all  the  time  she  could  with  her 
cousin  and  great  friend,  Penelope  Rich,  now  one  of 
the  ladies  of  the  bedchamber.  Both  Lettice  Knollys’s 
daughters  were  unhappily  married  and  frequently  lived 
apart  from  their  husbands.  Penelope  had  been  forced  into 

1  Collins’  Sydney  Papers. 

2  Daughter  of  Sir  Alexander  Ratcliffe  of  Ordsall. 

3  d.  of  Lord  Charles  Howard  and  Kate  Carey.  Widow  of  Henry, 
Earl  of  Kildare. 

4  Henry  Brooke,  8th  Lord  Cobham. 

6  Collins’  Sydney  Papers , 


Coll,  of  the  Duke  of  Hucclruch 


ELIZABTEH  VERNON 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  233 

a  loveless  marriage  with  Lord  Rich,  whilst  Dorothy  soon 
found  that  the  Earl  of  Northumberland  proved  quite  as 
unsatisfactory  a  husband,  as  Lady  Bridget  Manners  and 
Lady  Elizabeth  Vere  had  anticipated  he  would. 

“Lettice  Knollys’s”  son  was  chief  favourite;  her  sister, 
Lady  Leighton,  and  both  her  daughters  were  of  the 
inner  Court  circle,  and  her  brother,  Sir  William  Knollys, 
Comptroller  of  the  household,  yet  the  Countess  of 
Leicester  herself  remained  in  disgrace.  The  Earl  of 
Essex,  deeply  resenting  this  slight  on  his  mother,  deter¬ 
mined  to  use  all  his  influence  to  bring  about  a  recon¬ 
ciliation  with  the  Queen,  so  that  Lady  Leicester  might 
return  to  Court  and  take  her  rightful  place  in  London 
society. 

Lettice,  hungering  for  sight  of  her  boy,  and  heartily 
weary  of  Staffordshire,  promised  she  would  face  the 

“foul  travelling,  if  matters  stood  so  well  as  you  might 
hope  to  obtain  some  favour  for  us,  then  I  would  come  also 
presently  up;  otherwise  a  country  life  is  fittest  for 
disgraced  persons.  But,  if  you  find  reason  to  wish  my 
coming,  then  must  you  presently  send  some  coach  horses 
to  fetch  me,  for  my  own  will  never  be  able  to  draw  me 
out  of  the  mire.  I  pray  you  ask  my  sister  Warwick’s1 
counsel,  and  my  sister  Layton’s,  in  this  case,  and  let  me 
hear  accordingly  from  you  by  this  bearer.  So  wishing 
you  as  to  my  own  heart,  my  dear  son,  I  ever  rest  your 
mother  infinitely  loving  you.  Leicester  ” 


1  The  term  sister  was  constantly  used  to  denote  intimacy.  Ann 
Russell  and  Lettice  Knollys  had  been  Maids  of  Honour  together 
and  remained  close  friends. 


234  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Essex  replied  that  he  had  great  hopes  of  being  able  to 
induce  the  Queen  to  receive  his  mother,  so  Lettice,  with 
all  the  horses  she  could  muster,  braved  mud,  floods  and 
highwaymen,  in  order  to  arrive  at  London  early  in 
January. 

Her  children  and  friends  gave  her  a  warm  welcome,  and 
many  gatherings  were  held  at  Essex’s  house  in  the  Strand. 
One  festive  evening,  after  “a  very  great  supper,”  the 
guests  were  entertained  by  two  plays,  “which  kept  them 
up  till  one  o’clock  after  midnight.” 

Elizabeth,  knowing  that  Lady  Leicester  had  arrived, 
took  every  precaution  to  avoid  meeting  her.  Essex 
obtained  permission  to  bring  his  mother  to  the  privy 
galleries,  but  there  she  waited  long  in  vain,  the  Queen 
obstinately  refusing  to  pass  that  way  till  the  Countess  had 
left.  Next  her  brother,  Sir  William  Knollys,  and  his 
wife,  “old  lady  Chandos,”  prepared  a  banquet  at  the 
Tilt  End  to  which  the  Queen  promised  to  come.  All  was 
in  readiness;  Lady  Leicester  waiting  with  a  jewel  worth 
£300  as  a  peace  offering,  when  word  came  to  say  that 
Elizabeth  “upon  a  sudden  resolved  not  to  go.” 

Essex  used  persuasion  and  entreaties  varied  by  fits  of 
temper  when  he  sulked  and  went  to  bed.  At  length  by 
sheer  importunity  he  brought  about  a  meeting,  when 
Lettice  “kissed  the  Queen’s  hand  and  her  breast,  and 
did  embrace  her,  and  the  Queen  kissed  her.” 

The  reconciliation  proved  hollow,  serving  to  remind 
Elizabeth  of  the  past  and  its  bitterness,  so  that  when 
Lady  Leicester  requested  permission  to  come  to  Court 
again  it  was  refused,  and  “some  wonted  unkind  words 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  235 

given  out  of  her.”1  Lettice,  stung  by  the  affront,  at  once 
ordered  her  coach,  and  without  even  waiting  to  bid  her 
son  good-bye  started  off  for  Staffordshire. 

The  next  of  Essex’s  relations  to  get  into  disgrace  was 
his  cousin,  Elizabeth  Vernon,  for  it  suddenly  came  out 
that  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  hearing  she  was  in  a  grave 
situation,  had  paid  a  fleeting  visit  to  England  in  order  to 
make  her  his  wife. 

The  Queen  heard  the  news  on  Sunday,  “whereat  her 
patience  was  so  much  moved  that  she  came  not  to 
chapel.”  She  threatened  all  concerned  with  the  Tower, 
commanded  “the  sweetest  and  best  appointed  lodg¬ 
ing  in  the  Fleet”  to  be  prepared  for  the  “new-coined 
Countess,”  and  ordered  the  Earl  to  return  immediately. 
“These  are  but  the  beginnings  of  evils,  well  may  he 
hope  for  a  merry  day,”2  commented  courtiers  discussing 
the  latest  sensation. 

Sir  Robert  Cecil  as  secretary  wrote  unwillingly,  but 
without  alternative,  to  the  Earl  on  behalf  of  his  angry 
mistress : 

“I  am  grieved  to  use  the  style  of  a  councillor  to  you,  to 
whom  I  have  ever  rather  wished  to  be  the  messenger  of 
honour  and  favour  by  laying  her  Majesty’s  commands 
upon  you;  but  I  must  now  put  this  gall  in  my  ink,  that 
she  knows  that  you  came  over  very  lately,  and  returned 
again  very  contemptuously;  that  you  have  also  married 
one  of  her  maids  of  honour,  without  her  privty,  for  which 
with  the  circumstances  informed  against  you,  I  find  her 
grievously  offended;  and  she  commands  me  to  charge  you 

1  Collins’  Sydney  Pa-pers. 

2  Domestic  State  Papers ,  1598. 


236  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

expressly  (all  excuses  set  apart)  to  repair  hither  to  London, 
and  adventure  your  arrival  without  coming  to  Court, 
until  her  pleasure  be  known.”1 

To  Southampton  the  contents  of  this  letter  “were 
nothing  welcome,”  and  the  report  of  the  Queen’s  anger 
“most  grievous”  unto  him.  Returning  to  England,  he  went 
straight  to  his  young  wife,  who,  banished  from  Court  and 
threatened  with  imprisonment,  had  taken  refuge  with  the 
Earl  and  Countess  of  Essex.  A  family  discussion  resulted 
in  Lord  and  Lady  Southampton  repairing  to  Court  the 
following  Sunday  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  personal  in¬ 
terview  with  the  Queen.  As  usual,  the  Council  chamber 
was  thronged  with  people  waiting  to  see  Elizabeth  as  she 
passed  through  on  her  way  to  chapel. 

“First  went  the  gentlemen,  barons,  earls,  knights  of  the 
garter,  all  richly  dressed  and  bare  headed;  next  came  the 
Chancellor,  bearing  the  seals  in  a  red  silk  purse,  between 
two,  one  of  which  carried  a  royal  sceptre,  the  other  the 
sword  of  state,  in  a  red  scabbard,  studded  with  golden 
fleur-de-lis,  the  point  upwards.  Next  came  the  Queen,  in 
the  sixty  fifth  year  of  her  age,  as  we  were  told,  very 
majestic;  her  face  oblong,  fair,  but  wrinkled;  her  eyes 
small,  yet  black  and  pleasant,  her  nose  a  little  hooked;  her 
lips  narrow  and  her  teeth  black;  (a  defect  the  English  seem 
subject  to,  from  their  too  great  use  of  sugar).  She  had  in 
her  ears  two  pearls,  with  very  rich  drops;  she  wore  false 
hair,  and  that  red;  upon  her  head  she  had  a  small  crown, 
reported  to  be  made  of  some  of  the  gold  of  the  celebrated 
Lunebourg  table;  her  bosom  was  uncovered,  as  all  the 
English  ladies  have  it,  till  they  marry;  she  had  on  a  neck- 

1  Domestic  State  Papers,  1598. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  237 

lace  of  exceeding  fine  jewels.  Her  hands  were  small,  her 
fingers  long,  and  her  stature  neither  tall  nor  low;  her  air 
was  stately,  her  manner  of  speaking  mild  and  obliging. 
That  day  she  was  dressed  in  white  silk  bordered  with 
pearls  of  the  size  of  beans  and  over  it  a  mantle  of  black 
silk,  shot  with  silver  thread.  Her  train  was  very  long,  the 
end  of  it  borne  by  marchioness.  Instead  of  a  chain,  she  had 
an  oblong  collar,  of  gold  and  jewels.  As  she  went  along  in 
all  this  state  and  magnificence,  she  spoke  very  graciously, 
first  to  one,  then  to  another,  whether  foreign  ministers  or 
those  who  attended  for  different  reasons,  in  English, 
French,  an^  Italian;  for  besides  being  well  skilled  in 
Greek,  Latin,  and  the  languages  I  have  mentioned,  she  is 
mistress  of  Spanish,  Scotch  and  Dutch.  Whoever  speaks  to 
her,  it  is  kneeling;  now  and  then  she  raises  some  by  her 
hand.  While  we  were  there,  W.  Slawata,  a  Bohemian 
baron,  had  letters  to  present  to  her;  and  she,  after  pulling 
off  her  glove,  gave  him  her  right  hand  to  kiss,  sparkling 
with  rings  and  jewils, — a  mark  of  particular  favour. 
Wherever  she  turned  her  face  as  she  was  going  along, 
everybody  fell  down  on  their  knees.  The  ladies  of  the 
Court  followed  next  to  her,  very  handsome  and  well 
shaped,  and  for  the  most  part  dressed  in  white.  She  was 
guarded  on  each  side,  by  the  gentlemen  pensioners,  fifty 
in  number,  with  gilt  battle-axes.”1 

Slowly  and  majestically  Elizabeth  passed  along,  but 
never  by  look  or  sign  did  she  vouchsafe  the  slightest  recog¬ 
nition  of  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Southampton,  who 
strove  so  earnestly  to  attradf  her  attention.  For  two  hours 
did  they  wait,  then,  greatly  daring,  the  former  Maid  of 
Honour  sent  a  message  by  Lady  Scudamore  “that  she  de¬ 
sired  her  Majesty’s  resolution.” 

1  Hentzner’s  Travels. 


238  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Lady  Scudamore,  who  as  Mary  Shelton  had  suffered 
blows  and  evil  words  consequent  on  her  own  secret  mar¬ 
riage  so  long  ago,  ventured  to  plead  for  the  young  people. 
Elizabeth  angrily  bade  her  be  silent,  and  tell  my  Lady 
Southampton  “that  she  was  sufficiently  resolved  but  that 
next  day  she  would  have  a  talk  with  her  father.”1 

The  conference  with  Sir  John  Vernon  ended  in  his 
taking  his  daughter  home  in  disgrace  to  Hodnet,  whilst  to 
inhospitable  lodging  in  the  Fleet  prison  went  her  “  ill 
good  man.”2 

1  Birch’s  Memoirs  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

2  The  Earl  of  Southampton  died  in  1624,  but  “Elizabeth 
Vernon”  was  still  living  in  1647  when  Charles  I,  “knowing  her  to 
be  a  lady  of  the  honour  and  spirit,  that  she  was  superior  to  all  kind 
of  temptation,”  took  refuge  with  her  at  Titchfield. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


THE  Earl  of  Essex  championed  the  cause  of  his 
cousin  and  friend  with  more  zeal  than  discre¬ 
tion,  doing  them  no  good  and  himself  consider¬ 
able  harm.  The  Queen  lived  in  a  state  of  perpetual 
friftion  with  her  young  favourite,  who  possessed  none  of 
the  sauve  manners  and  controlled  feelings  which  had 
rendered  his  stepfather,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  such 
an  accomplished  courtier.  Essex,  headstrong  and  im¬ 
petuous,  showed  quite  as  much  resentment  to  the  Queen 
as  he  would  have  done  to  anyone  else  who  opposed  him. 
Completely  sure  of  his  power,  he  treated  her  with  careless 
indifference,  withholding  the  tokens  of  affedfions  for 
which  she  craved,  whilst  lavishing  them  freely  on  the 
younger  ladies.  Elizabeth  in  consequence  suffered 
tortures  of  jealousy;  she  loved  so  much,  gave  so  much, 
yet  received  nothing  in  return.  Scenes  between  them 
were  of  frequent  occurrence,  for  Essex,  fretted  and 
irritated  by  the  restraints  her  fondness  put  upon  him,  took 
ready  offence.  When  he  could  not  get  his  way,  he  sulked 
and  went  to  bed,  sure  that  anxiety  for  his  health  would 
soon  cause  the  Queen  to  give  way.  Once  the  tussle  between 
their  wills  lasted  a  fortnight,  to  the  great  interest  of  the 
Court. 

“Full  fourteen  days  his  lordship  kept  in;  Her  Majesty, 
as  I  heard,  meant  to  break  him  of  his  will,  and  to  pull 
down  his  great  heart,  but  found  it  a  thing  impossible,  and 
says  he  holds  it  from  his  mother’s  side.”1 

1  R.  Wl.yte  to  Sir  R.  Sidney. 


240  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

The  Queen’s  forbearance  did,  however,  give  way  during 
a  discussion  relative  to  the  appointment  of  a  Lord  Lieu¬ 
tenant  for  Ireland.  Elizabeth  wished  Sir  William  Knollys 
to  go,  but  Essex  suggested  Sir  George  Carew,  not  from 
any  mislikings  of  his  uncle,  but  because  he  had  quarrelled 
with  Sir  George  and  wanted  to  get  him  out  of  England. 

Things  then  grew  heated,  for  Elizabeth  still  adhered  to 
Sir  William  Knollys,  till  Essex  in  a  temper  deliberately 
turned  his  back  on  her.  Favourite  or  no  favourite,  this  was 
more  than  Tudor  blood  could  stand  and  she  dealt  my  lord 
a  swinging  box  on  the  ear,  at  the  same  time  bidding  him 
“go  and  be  hanged.” 

Essex,  livid  with  fury,  swung  round,  clapping  his  hand 
on  his  sword  and  declaring  “he  would  not  have  taken  that 
blow  from  King  Henry  VIII,  her  father,  and  that  it  was 
an  indignity  that  he  neither  could  nor  would  endure  from 
anyone.”1  He  even  seemed  as  if  he  would  strike  the  Queen, 
and  the  Earl  of  Nottingham,  in  alarm,  placed  himself  be¬ 
fore  her.  Essex  rammed  back  his  sword,  muttered  some¬ 
thing  unintelligible,  but  obviously  impolite,  about  “a 
King  in  petticoats,”  and  flung  himself  out  of  the  room. 

No  other  man  might  have  a  died  thus  and  retained  either 
the  Queen’s  favour  or  his  own  head,  but  Elizabeth’s  love 
forgave  much,  so  that  the  favourite  could  if  he  would 
have  made  his  peace.  The  trouble  was  that  Essex,  con¬ 
sidering  himself  the  aggrieved  party,  would  do  nothing  of 
the  sort.  “I  have  received  a  wrong  and  I  feel  it,”  he  said  to 
those  who  wisely  counselled,  and  refused  to  go  near  Court 
or  ask  the  Queen’s  pardon. 

1  Camden. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  241 

An  imperfect  account  of  what  had  happened  reached 
Lady  Leicester  in  the  country;  anxious  and  alarmed,  she 
wrote  to  her  son  : 

“Sweet  Robin, 

Yourself  hath  given  me  such  taste  of  some  strange 
matter  to  be  looked  for,  so  I  cannot  be  quiet,  till  I  know 
the  true  cause  of  your  absence  and  discontentment.  If  it 
be  but  for  Ireland,  I  doubt  not,  but  you  are  wise  and 
politic  enough  to  countermine  with  your  enemies,  whose 
devilish  practises  can  no  way  hurt  you  but  one.  Wherefore, 
my  dear  son,  give  me  leave  to  be  a  little  jealous  over  you 
for  your  good,  and  intreat  you  to  have  ever  God  and  your 
own  honour  before  your  eyes;  so  shall  you  be  sure,  that  he 
will  dispose  indeed  all,  as  you  say,  for  the  best,  in  spite  of 
all  enemies.  My  friend1  and  I  cannot  but  be  troubled  with 
this  news,  and  do  wish  ourselves  with  you,  as  we  would 
soon  be,  if  we  thought  our  service  needful,  or  that  you 
would  have  it  so;  which  let  us  know,  and  we  will  leave  all 
the  occasions  whatsoever,  and  will  presently  be  with  you. 
Well,  if  it  be  men’s  matters  I  know  you  have  courage 
enough;  if  women’s,  you  have  meetly  well  passed  the  pikes 
already,  and  therein  should  be  skilful.  So  praying  you  not 
to  be  too  secret  from  your  best  friends,  I  end,  beseeching 
the  Almighty  to  bless  you  ever  in  his  highest  favour,  while 
^  am>  Your  mother, 

dearliest  loving  you, 

L.  Leicester.”2 

Elizabeth,  heart-sore  and  wretched  from  this  quarrel 
with  the  one  being  she  loved,  suffered  another  sorrow  in 
the  loss  of  Lord  Burleigh.  During  his  last  illness  she  visited 

1  Her  husband,  Christopher  Blount. 

2  Birch’s  Memoirs  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


242  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

him  constantly,  often  feeding  him  with  her  own  hands, 
as  with  tear-dimmed  eyes  she  watched  him  nearing  the 
end. 

Burleigh  died  on  August  4th,  1598,  and  Sir  William 
Knollys  made  the  sad  event  occasion  to  write  a  letter  of 
admonition  to  his  nephew : 

“Her  Majesty  hath  been  this  afternoon  made  privy  by 
Mr.  Chancellor  (Sir  John  Fortescue)  of  my  Lord  Trea¬ 
surer’s  death,  which  she  seemeth  to  take  very  grievously, 
shedding  of  tears,  and  separating  herself  from  all  company. 
Yet  I  doubt  not  but  she  in  her  wisdom  will  cast  this  be¬ 
hind  her,  as  she  hath  done  many  other  before  time  of  like 
nature.  .  .  .  Remember,  I  beseech  you,  that  there  is  no 
contesting  between  sovereignty  and  obedience;  and  I  fear 
the  longer  your  lordship  doth  persist  in  this  careless 
humour  of  Her  Majesty,  the  more  her  heart  will  be  hard¬ 
ened:  and  I  pray  God  your  contending  with  her  in  this 
manner  do  not  breed  such  a  hatred  in  her,  as  will  never  be 
reclaimed.”1 

Eventually  the  quarrel  was  made  up  as  others  had  been 
before,  so  tenaciously  did  Elizabeth  cling  to  the  one  being 
whose  life  she  held  more  than  her  own.  The  scales  were 
falling  from  her  eyes,  for  she  could  no  longer  delude  her¬ 
self  with  the  thought  that  he  loved  her  with  a  love  equal¬ 
ling  her  own;  yet  she  could  not  wholly  give  him  up,  try  as 
she  would.  With  tears  in  her  eyes  she  entreated  him  not  to 
try  her  too  far,  lest  as  a  Queen  she  might  be  unable  to 
pardon  where  as  a  woman  love  might  urge  her  to  do.  At 
the  same  time,  she  drew  a  ring  from  her  finger,  giving  it  to 
Essex  with  the  promise  that,  however  dire  his  offence,  if 

1  Birch’s  Memoirs  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  243 

he  sent  it  to  her  as  token  of  his  repentance  and  complete 
submission,  she  would  grant  him  pardon. 

Even  after  his  return  to  Court,  Essex  still  continued  to 
negative  all  suggestions  for  the  Irish  Lieutenancy,  till  at 
length  Elizabeth  said  he  had  better  take  it  himself,  as 
Tyrone’s  rebellion  in  the  North  rendered  it  imperative 
that  some  one  should  go  over  and  endeavour  to  restore 
order. 

The  appointment  once  made,  Essex  showed  no  great 
desire  to  be  gone;  the  young  courtiers,  on  the  contrary, 
were  wild  with  enthusiasm  to  join  the  expedition.  Tilts 
and  tourneys  were  all  very  well,  but  they  burned  to  win 
their  spurs  on  the  field  of  battle.  Knighthood  bestowed  in 
times  of  peace  was  well  enough  for  mayors  or  citizens: 
“carpet  knights”  who  knelt  smugly  before  the  Queen  to 
receive  the  accolade,  but  young  bloods  scoffed  derisively 
at  “A  knight  dubb’d  with  unhack’d  rapier,  and  on  carpet 
considerations.”1 

To  win  distinction  in  battle  by  signal  a  61  of  valour; 
mired,  wounded,  with  dripping  sword,  to  be  called  before 
the  general  in  command  and  by  him  knighted,  thus 
dreamed  the  gallants.  So  many  wished  to  go  that  it 
seemed  doubtful  if  there  would  be  enough  companies  for 
them  to  command,  till  the  Queen  thinned  out  the  aspir¬ 
ants  and  caused  much  heart-burning  by  forbidding  any  of 
the  gentlemen  pensioners  or  those  holding  office  at  Court 
go  at  all. 

Still  a  goodly  troupe  set  out  to  Ireland  soon  after  at¬ 
tending  a  grand  ball,  when  the  Queen  “very  richly  and 

1  Twelfth  Night,  III,  4. 


244  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

freshly  attired,”  danced  with  the  Earl  of  Essex.  The 
Maids  of  Honour  missed  their  admirers,  and  Margaret 
Ratcliffe  sorrowed  over  the  departure  of  her  beloved 
brother,  Alexander  Ratcliffe.  Moreover,  she  was  begin¬ 
ning  to  feel  the  strain  of  a  long  love  affair,  for  so  far  neither 
she  nor  Lady  Kildare  had  contrived  permanently  to  en¬ 
snare  Lord  Cobham’s  affedfion.  When  Lord  Cobham 
sprained  his  foot,  and  was  “not  for  the  pains  able  to  come 
abroad,”  the  two  ladies  were  disconsolate.  Lady  Kildare, 
the  Queen’s  carver,  hearing  that  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  had 
been  to  see  the  sufferer,  sent  urgent  message  to  him  to 
come  and  report  to  her  before  dinner,  “else  the  well 
carving  of  the  Queen’s  meat  would  be  mar’d  for  that 
day.” 

News  from  Ireland  proved  anything  but  satisfactory, 
and  Essex  aroused  the  Queen’s  anger  by  making  the  Earl 
of  Southampton  Master  of  the  Horse,  in  direct  contraven¬ 
tion  of  her  command  that  if  released  from  prison  to  join 
the  army  he  should  not  be  given  any  post  of  importance. 

Essex  when  reprimanded  refused  to  revoke  the  appoint¬ 
ment,  writing  to  the  Lords  of  the  Council:  “Was  it 
treason  in  My  Lord  of  Southampton  to  marry  my  poor 
kinswoman,  that  neither  long  imprisonment  nor  any  pun¬ 
ishment  besides  that  hath  been  usual  in  like  cases,  can 
satisfy  or  appease;  or  will  no  kind  of  punishment  be  fit  for 
him,  but  that  which  punisheth  not  him  but  me,  this  army, 
and  poor  country  of  Ireland.” 

Another  offence,  which  greatly  exasperated  the  Queen, 
was  the  prodigality  with  which  Essex  bestowed  the  honour 
of  knighthood.  Not  content  with  dubbing  them  by  dozens, 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  245 

he  proceeded  “to  huddle  them  up  by  half  hundreds.”  At 
Court  it  was  “much  marvelled  that  this  humour  should  so 
possess  him,”1  especially  as  no  definite  account  of  valorous 
deeds  corresponded  with  the  bestowal  of  the  honour.  In¬ 
deed,  things  were  going  far  from  well,  and  in  August  the 
army  suffered  a  defeat  with  heavy  losses.  When  the  death 
roll  reached  Court  it  contained  the  name  of  Sir  Alexander 
Ratcliffe. 

The  Queen  herself  broke  the  sad  news  to  Margaret,  who 
when  she  realized  the  immensity  of  her  loss  cried  as 
though  her  heart  would  break.  Leaving  the  Queen’s  pre¬ 
sence  she  ran  blindly  upstairs  to  the  girls’  dormitory,  and 
throwing  herself  on  her  bed  refused  to  be  comforted. 
Everything  that  mattered  in  Margaret’s  life  had  gone:  her 
dearly  loved  brother  was  dead,  and  Lord  Cobham  did  not 
care  for  her. 

Elizabeth,  hearing  from  the  other  Maids  of  Honour 
that  their  friend’s  grief  seemed  rather  to  increase  than 
lessen,  came  to  see  her,  but  even  she  could  not  hearten 
Margaret  Ratcliffe.  The  Palace  doctors  called  in  found 
nothing  radically  wrong  with  their  patient,  reporting  it  to 
be  illness,  not  of  the  body  but  the  heart.  Listlessly  she  lay 
in  bed,  refusing  food  and  growing  daily  whiter  and 
thinner,  so  that  when  the  Court  moved  to  Nonsuch  she 
had  to  be  left  behind  at  Richmond. 

Scarcely  had  the  Court  settled  down  at  Nonsuch  when 
an  unexpected  event  occurred.  Early  on  the  morning  of 
Michaelmas  Eve,  the  Earl  of  Essex,  travel-stained  and 
mire-bespattered,  arrived  at  the  Palace  gate.  Straight  to 
1  Letters  of  John  Chamberlain. 


246  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

the  presence  chamber  he  went,  but,  not  finding  the  Queen 
there,  astonished  onlookers  beheld  him  enter  unannounced 
her  bedchamber.  Elizabeth,  whose  toilet  held  many  secrets, 
was  in  the  hands  of  her  tirewomen,  and  by  no  means  ready 
to  receive  male  admirers.  Yet  she  could  not  entirely  dis¬ 
semble  the  joy  she  felt  at  beholding  the  one  being  always 
in  her  thoughts. 

Essex,  satisfied  with  his  reception,  returned  through  the 
outer  chambers  “very  pleasant  and  thanked  God,  though 
he  had  suffered  much  trouble  and  storms  abroad,  he  found 
a  sweet  calm  at  home.”1  The  favourite,  however,  had 
underrated  the  power  of  his  enemies,  who,  headed  by  Sir 
Robert  Cecil  and  Raleigh,  next  had  the  Queen’s  ear  to 
such  good  purpose  that  when  Essex  visited  her  again  in  the 
evening  he  found  her  much  changed,  “for  she  began  to 
call  him  in  question  for  his  coming  away,  and  leaving  all 
things  at  so  great  hazard.” 

The  upshot  was  that  my  Lord  of  Essex,  to  his  surprise 
and  chagrin,  received  orders  to  give  reasons  to  the  council 
for : 

“His  contemptuous  disobedience  of  her  Majesty’s  letter, 
and  will  in  returning:  his  presumptuous  letters  written 
from  time  to  time:  his  proceedings  in  Ireland  contrary  to 
the  points  resolved  upon  in  England,  ere  he  went:  his  rash 
manner  of  coming  away  from  Ireland:  his  overbold  going 
the  day  before  to  her  Majesty’s  presence  to  her  bed¬ 
chamber:  and  his  making  so  many  idle  Knights.”2 

The  idle  knights  began  to  flock  back  to  town,  not  seeing 
much  profit  in  remaining  with  the  army  after  the  general’s 

1  Collins’  Sydney  Papers.  2  Ibid. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  247 

departure.  They  did  not  find  their  reception  entirely 
pleasing,  as  the  gilded  spurs  of  knighthood  of  which  they 
were  so  proud  had  now  become  the  jest  of  the  town.  Fur¬ 
ther,  there  was  a  horrible  report  that  the  Queen  “was  very 
vehement”  to  degrade  my  Lord  of  Essex’s  Irish  Knights, 
which  if  carried  into  effect  would  have  entailed  the  hu¬ 
miliation  of  having  their  gilt  spurs  hacked  off  by  a  cook’s 
chopper. 

“Sir  John”  Harrington  had  not  been  home  an  hour  be¬ 
fore  he  was  threatened  with  the  Fleet;  subsequently  he 
had  a  very  painful  interview  with  his  royal  godmother: 
“What,  did  the  fool  bring  you  too?  Go  back  to  your  busi¬ 
ness,”  she  exclaimed,  frowning  angrily  at  “boy  Jack,” 
humbly  kneeling  on  his  quaking  knees.  Exculpate  himself 
he  could  not,  “for  her  choler  did  outrun  all  reason,”  and 
he  swore  they  were  “all  idle  knaves.” 

“She  chafed  much,  walked  fast  to  and  fro,  looked  with 
discomposure  in  her  visage;  and  I  remember,  she  catched 
my  girdle  when  I  kneeled  to  her,  and  swore,  ‘By  God’s  son 
I  am  no  queen,  that  man  is  above  me: — who  gave  him 
command  to  come  here  so  soon?  I  did  send  him  on  other 
business!  It  was  long  before  more  gracious  discourse  did 
fall  to  my  hearing;  but  I  was  then  put  out  of  my  trouble, 
and  bid  go  home.  I  did  not  stay  to  be  bidden  twice;  if  all 
the  Irish  rebels  had  been  at  my  heels,  I  should  not  have 
made  better  speed,  for  I  did  now  flee  from  one  whom  I 
both  loved  and  feared  too.”1 

Elizabeth,  having  received  the  Council’s  report  of  the 
Earl  of  Essex’s  examination,  ordered  him  to  be  removed  to 


1  Sir  J.  Harrington’s  Nugcs  Antiques. 


248  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

York  House  in  charge  of  the  Lord  Keeper,  there  to  remain 
during  Her  Majesty’s  pleasure.  How  long  that  would  be 
no  one  knew,  least  of  all  the  Queen,  who  had  returned 
with  the  Court  to  Richmond. 

Queen  and  ladies  were  alike  shocked  to  see  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  Margaret  Ratcliffe  during  their 
absence.  She  had  become  but  a  shadow  of  her  former  self, 
and  though  pleased  to  see  her  friends  again,  their  hold  on 
her  affection  was  not  strong  enough  to  give  an  incentive  to 
life,  and  one  November  morning  she  slipped  over  the  bor¬ 
derland  to  join  her  brother. 

The  nature  of  her  death  made  a  deep  impression,  not 
only  at  Court,  but  throughout  the  whole  city  of  London; 
and  after  the  arrest  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  it  formed  the  chief 
topics  of  conversation: 

“There  is  newes  besides  of  the  tragycall  death  of  Mis¬ 
tress  Ratcliffe  the  Mayde  of  honor,  who  ever  synce  the 
death  of  Sir  Alexander  her  brother  hathe  pined  in  such 
strange  manner,  as  voluntarily  she  hath  gone  about  to 
starve  herself,  and  by  the  two  days  together  hathe  re- 
ceivyed  no  sustinence,  which  meeting  with  extreame  greife 
hathe  made  an  end  of  her  Mayden  modest  days  at  Rich¬ 
mond  uppon  Saterdaye  last,  her  Majestie  being  present, 
who  commanded  her  body  to  be  opened  and  found  it  all 
well  and  sound,  saving  certyne  strings  striped  all  over  her 
harte.”1 

The  Maids  of  Honour  went  into  mourning  for  their 
friend  and  followed  in  the  funeral  procession,  Ann 
Russell  being  chief  mourner.  Margaret  was  buried  in 


1  Philip  Gaudy’s  Letters, 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  249 

St.  Margaret’s,  Westminster,  Ben  Jonson  composing  her 
epitaph. 

On  Margaret  Ratcliffe 

“M  arble  weep,  for  thou  do’st  cover, 

A  dead  beautie  underneath  thee, 

R  ich  as  nature  could  bequeath  thee: 

G  rant  then,  no  rude  hand  remove  her. 

A  11  the  gazers  on  the  skies 
R  ead  not  in  faire  Heaven’s  storie, 

E  xpresses  truth  or  truer  glorie, 

T  han  they  might  in  her  bright  eyes. 

R  are  as  wonder  was  her  wit; 

A  nd  like  nectar  ever  flowing: 

T  ill  time,  strong  by  her  bestowing, 

C  onquer’d  hath  both  life  and  it. 

L  ife  whose  griefe  was  out  of  fashion 
I  n  these  times;  few  so  ru’d 
F  ate  in  a  brother.  To  conclude 
F  or  wit,  features,  and  true  passion, 

E  arth,  thou  hast  not  such  another.” 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


IN  Margaret  Ratcliffe’s  place  came  “the  young  fair 
Mrs.  Southwell,”1  Elizabeth’s  namesake  and  god¬ 
daughter,  whose  mother,  Lady  Southwell,  and 
grandmother,  Lady  Nottingham,  now  ladies  of  the  bed¬ 
chamber,  had  been  Maids  of  Honour  before  her. 

At  Court  the  Howard  influence  had  never  been 
stronger,  for  since  Lord  Burleigh’s  death  the  Queen  relied 
more  and  more  upon  the  advice  of  the  Lord  Admiral. 
Both  he  and  his  wife,  “Kate  Carey,”  Elizabeth’s  dearest 
friend,  were  against  the  return  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  to 
Court.  Apart  from  party  feeling,  they  realized  the  un¬ 
happiness  he  had  caused  the  Queen,  and  dreaded  his  in¬ 
fluence  over  the  declining  years  of  her  life. 

Lady  Nottingham’s  sister,  Lady  Scrope,  on  the 
contrary,  did  all  she  could  to  soften  the  Queen’s  heart 
towards  the  disgraced  favourite.  “She  endures  much  at 
her  Majesty’s  hands,  because  she  doth  daily  do  all  the 
kind  offices  of  love  to  the  Queen  in  his  behalf.  She  wears 
all  black,  she  mourns  and  is  pensive,  and  joys  in  nothing 
but  in  a  solitary  being  along.  And  ’tis  thought,  she  says 
much  that  few  would  venture  to  say  but  herself.”2 3 

Mary  Radcliffe  added  her  entreaties  to  those  of  Lady 
Scrope,  and  Lady  Warwick,  his  mother’s  friend,  sent 

1  Elizabeth,  d.  of  Sir  Robert  Southwell,  and  his  wife,  Elizabeth 
Howard,  d.  of  the  Earl  of  Nottingham.  In  the  next  reign  Elizabeth 

Southwell  created  a  sensation,  when,  disguised  as  a  page,  she  eloped 
with  Lord  Robert  Dudley  to  the  Continent. 

3  R.  Whyte  to  Sir  R.  Sidney. 

250 


I 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  251 

Essex  a  message  saying  that  if  he  obtained  his  liberty  and 
came  to  Greenwich  she  would  contrive  an  opportunity 
to  let  him  into  the  palace  gardens  one  day  when  the 
Queen  happened  to  be  in  a  good  humour,  so  that  he 
might  plead  his  cause  in  person. 

The  Earl’s  relatives  and  friends,  filled  with  anxiety, 
knew  not  what  to  do  for  the  best.  It  was  taken  ill  that 
Lady  Essex  “a  most  sorrowful  creature  for  her  husband’s 
captivity,”  came  to  Court,  though  “all  in  black  of  the 
meanest  price”  to  show  her  humility.  Lady  Rich  and  Lady 
Southampton  went  into  the  country  “to  shun  the 
company  that  daily  were  wont  to  visit  them  in  town, 
because  it  gave  offence  to  the  Court.”  Even  the  Earl’s 
servants  were  afraid  “to  meet  in  any  place  to  make 
merry,  lest  it  might  be  ill  taken.” 

Essex  fell  dangerously  ill,  to  the  concern  of  the  Queens 
who  though  she  still  refused  forgiveness  sent  eight  of  her 
physicians  to  examine  him.  Their  report  left  Her  Majesty 
“very  pensive  and  grieved.”  Disillusioned  and  sore  at 
heart,  yet  she  could  not  entirely  root  out  her  love,  and 
there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  when  she  sent  the  prisoner 
some  broth,  together  with  a  message  “that  he  should 
comfort  himself,  and  that  she  would,  if  she  might  with 
her  honor,  visit  him.” 

Lady  Essex  at  length  received  permission  to  see  her 
husband,  and  Lady  Rich  and  Lady  Northumberland 
came  to  Court  as  suppliants  for  their  brother’s  liberty. 
Penelope,  putting  more  faith  in  material  things  than 
solicitations,  sent  the  Queen  many  jewels  and  presents, 
which  were  accepted,  but  the  accompanying  request  to 


252  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

visit  her  brother  refused.  As  a  matter  of  faCl  Elizabeth 
was  by  no  means  pleased  with  Penelope,  having  more  than 
a  suspicion  that  the  lady’s  sparkling  black  eyes  had 
managed  to  ensnare  the  affeCtions  of  her  other  young 
favourite,  Lord  Mountjoy. 

Lady  Leicester,  tortured  with  anxiety,  and  hearing 
that  her  daughters  were  powerless  to  move  the  Queen, 
determined  to  come  to  town  in  the  very  faint  hope  she 
might  be  able  to  help  her  boy.  That  Elizabeth  bore  her 
no  goodwill  she  very  well  knew,  but  as  the  New  Year’s 
gift  she  sent  “was  very  well  taken,”  she  put  in  hand  a  gown 
which  would  cost  £100  at  least.  On  March  2nd  the  ladies 
caught  a  glimpse  of  this  wonderful  dress. 

“Yesterday  the  Countess  of  Leicester  sent  the  Queen 
a  most  curious  fine  gown,  which  was  presented  by  my 
Lady  Scudamore.  Her  Majesty  liked  it  well,  but  did  not 
accept  it,  nor  refuse  it;  only  answered,  ‘that  things 
standing  as  they  did,  it  was  not  fit  for  her  to  desire  what 
she  did;  which  was,  to  come  to  her  Majesty’s  presence 
to  kiss  her  hands,  upon  her  now  going  to  her  poor  home.”1 

One  day  of  hope  the  ladies  had,  when  Lady  Leicesters 
her  two  daughters  and  their  cousin,  Lady  Southampton, 
assembled  at  Essex  House  in  anticipation  that  the  Earl 
would  be  released.  This  expectation  was  not  fulfilled, 
and  the  ladies  got  into  trouble  because  they  went  to  a 
house  overlooking  York  Garden,  in  order  to  wave  to  the 
Earl  as  he  walked  up  and  down,  “in  a  cloth  gown,  cloth 
jerkin,  cloth  house,  cloth  stockings,  cloth  mittens.” 

When  Essex  did  receive  permission  to  return  to  his 

1  Collins’  Sydney  Papers 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  253 

own  house  it  was  in  custody  of  Sir  Richard  Berkley,  all 
the  ladies  being  sent  away  before  his  arrival.  Eventually 
after  an  examination  of  his  condudl,  Essex  received  his 
freedom  from  the  Queen,  coupled  with  the  proviso 
that  “he  must  in  no  sort  suppose  himself  to  be  freed  from 
her  indignation  neither  must  he  presume  to  approach  her 
court  or  person.” 

Elizabeth,  meanwhile,  was  determined  to  show  that 
she  could  do  perfectly  well  without  the  Earl  of  Essex, 
and  his  enemies,  falling  in  with  her  humour,  did  all  they 
could  to  provide  a  ceaseless  round  of  amusements:  bull 
baiting,  bear  baiting,  hunting  during  the  day,  and  at  night 
dancing,  plays,  conjuring,  or  acrobatic  performances. 

As  an  additional  distradfion  the  Queen  not  only  gave 
assent,  but  evinced  the  deepest  interest  in  Ann  Russell’s 
forthcoming  wedding. 

The  two  Russell  girls  had  spent  five  happy  years  at 
Court,  away  from  the  restraints  imposed  upon  them  by 
their  litigious  mother,  Lady  Russell.1  She,  with  her 
two  sisters,  Lady  Burleigh  and  Lady  Bacon,  were  the 
most  famous  blue  stockings2  of  their  day,  and  possessed 
of  tongues  as  shrewd  as  their  wits.  Lady  Russell’s  children 
had  perforce  to  imbibe  learning  whether  they  would  or 

1  Daughter  of  Sir  Anthony  Cook,  of  Gidea  Hall,  Essex. 

2  The  term  “blue  stocking”  seems  to  have  originated  in  a  Society 
founded  at  Venice  in  1500.  The  members  of  this  society  were 
distinguished  by  their  blue  stockings.  In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth 
the  term  as  applied  to  a  “learned  lady”  was  in  common  use  both 
in  England  and  on  the  Continent.  The  Spanish  Ambassador,  in 
a  letter  dated  December  29th,  1558,  refers  to  Lady  Burleigh  as 
a  “tiresome  blue  stocking”  ( Calendar  S-pan.  State  Papers,  3). 


254  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

no,  and  the  two  small  girls  mastered  the  rudiments  of 
the  three  R’s  to  accompaniment  of  tears  and  chastisement. 

John,  Lord  Russell,  would  if  he  had  lived  have  been 
Earl  of  Bedford,  but  dying  before  his  father  the  title 
passed  to  his  nephew,  a  minor  under  the  wardship  of  Lady 
Warwick.  The  two  girls,  Elizabeth  and  Ann,  were  left 
slenderly  provided  for  under  their  grandfather’s  will,  and 
their  mother  made  suit  to  have  them  taken  into  the 
Queen’s  household.  When  this  came  to  pass  she  wrote  one 
of  the  acrid  letters  with  which  she  frequently  favoured 
her  nephew,  Sir  Robert  Cecil: 

“I  have  been  to  see  her  Majesty  when  going  to  God’s 
house,  not  being  able  through  malice  to  see  her  face  else; 
there  was  no  lady  present  more  than  ordinary,  but  Lady 
Buckhurst.  I  think  her  Majesty  would  expedl  from  me  a 
New  Year’s  Gift,  because  of  her  favour  in  accepting  my 
daughter’s  services.  I  propose  to  give  £ 20  in  a  purse.  I 
have  many  enemies  and  can  only  serve  her  Majesty  by 
prayers.  I  am  maliced  thus  through  your  father’s  mutter- 
ings  which  stick  fast  by  me,  and  yet  he  considers  it  not  nor 
knows  what  I  have  endured  for  him  to  my  undeserved 
shame.  By  your  Aunt  that  hath  not  £600  de  Claro  in  the 
world  to  live  on  left;  Elizabeth  Russell,  that  liveth  in 
scorn  and  disdain,  malice,  and  rancour,  fearing,  serving 
and  depending  only  upon  God  and  my  sovereign.”1 

Once  settled  at  Court  the  two  girls  did  not  see  much 
of  their  mother,  who  immersed  in  quarrels  with  neigh¬ 
bours,  tradespeople,  and  theatre  proprietors,  constantly 
sent  word  that  she  was  too  busy  with  lawyers  to  have  them 
visit  her.  Before  long  she  came  into  collision  with  her 
1  Domestic  State  Papers,  1575. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  255 

daughters,  when  on  the  advice  of  their  uncle,  Sir  Robert 
Cecil,  they  decided  to  sell  their  property,  Russell  House 
in  St.  Martin-in-the-Fields. 

Lady  Russell  requested  her  daughters  to  come  to  her 
at  once  and,  in  a  good  deal  of  trepidation,  the  two  girls 
took  boat  at  Whitehall  stairs  and  were  rowed  up  to  their 
mother’s  house  at  Blackfriars.  Lady  Russell  met  them 
with  bitter  reproaches,  declaring  that  “whensoever  they 
weeded  out  their  father’s  name  at  Russell  house  they 
should  root  out  her  heart  from  them.”1 

Ann  bent  under  the  storm,  beginning  to  cry,  and 
promising  not  to  do  anything  against  her  mother’s 
wishes,  but  Elizabeth,  having  inherited  a  good  deal  of  the 
elder  lady’s  charadfer,  held  out.  She  and  Ann  could  never 
afford  to  live  in  Russell  House;  Sir  Robert  Cecil  advised 
the  sale,  and  undoubtedly  the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  sell 
it  now  when  they  had  a  good  offer.  Lady  Russell  scolded 
and  upbraided  in  vain.  Bess  remained  firm,  secure  in  the 
knowledge  that  her  mother  dared  not  oppose  Sir  Robert 
Cecil,  though  she  might  write  in  bitterness,  “God  reward 
Mistress  Elizabeth.  Much  good  shall  she  get  by  her 
presumptuous  disobedience.” 

Lady  Russell’s  interference  made  it  difficult  for  her 
daughters  to  keep  their  friends.  When  Lord  Cobham 
began  to  pay  so  much  attention  to  Bess  that  both  Mar¬ 
garet  Ratcliffe  and  Lady  Kildare  were  seriously  perturbed, 
Lady  Russell  threatened  him  with  legal  proceedings  on 
account  of  some  property,  and  all  question  of  marriage 
came  to  an  end.  Then  again  when  Bess  became  a  special 

1  Salisbury  MSS.,  Hist.  MSS.  Com. 


256  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

favourite  of  the  Lord  Admiral,  Lady  Russell,  who 
happened  to  be  in  competition  with  him  for  a  lease  of 
some  lands,  promptly  took  the  opportunity  to  urge  her 
claim  in  the  name  of  her  daughter: 

“Good  Mr.  Secretary,  move  her  Majesty  to  grant  my 
lease  promised  to  your  father  in  his  days,  to  me  now  for 
Bess  Russell’s  good.  It  cost  me  truly  twelve  years  since,  a 
gown  and  pettitcoat  of  such  tissue  as  should  have  been 
for  the  Queen  of  Scots’  wedding  garment;  but  I  got 
them  for  my  Queen,  full  dearly  bought,  I  well  wot. 
Besides  I  gave  her  Majesty  a  canopy  of  tissue  with 
curtains  of  crimson  taffety  belted  gold.  I  gave  also  two 
hats  with  two  jewels,  though  I  say  it,  fine  hats;  the  one 
w'hite  beaver,  the  jewel  of  the  one  above  a  hundred 
pounds  price,  besides  the  pendant  pearl,  which  cost  me  the 
£30  more.  And  then  it  pleased  her  Majesty  to  acknow¬ 
ledge  the  jewel  to  be  so  fair  as  that  she  commanded  it 
should  be  delivered  to  me  again,  but  it  was  not;  and  after 
by  my  Lady  Cobham,  your  mother-in-law,  when  she 
presented  my  new  years  gift  of  .£30  in  fair  gold,  I 
received  answer  that  her  Majesty  would  grant  my  lease 
of  Dunnington.  Sir,  I  will  be  sworn  that  in  the  space  of 
18  weeks,  gifts  to  her  Majesty  cost  me  above  .£500,  in 
hope  to  have  Dunnington  lease;  which  if  now  you  will  get 
performed  for  Bess’s  almost  six  years  service;  she  I  am 
sure  will  be  most  ready  to  acquit  any  service  to  yourself.”1 

Elizabeth  and  Ann,  like  most  of  the  Maids  of  Honour, 
were  fine  horsewomen  and  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in 
the  saddle.  The  Queen’s  horses  were  kept  at  Charing 
Cross  Mews  which,  owing  to  proximity  to  the  Palace, 
proved  more  convenient  than  the  old  royal  stables  at 

1  Salisbury  MSS. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  257 

Holborn.  These  had  been  burnt  down  by  fire  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  VIII,  when  it  became  imperative  to  find 
immediate  lodging  for  all  the  King’s  horses,  and  all  the 
King’s  men  in  attendance  on  them.  Choice  fell  on  the 
Royal  Mews  at  Charing  Cross,  where  the  King’s  falcons 
were  shut  up  to  mew  or  moult,  and  when  the  temporary 
stables  became  permanent,  they  retained  their  old  name 
of  the  Mews. 

Each  Maid  of  Honour  had  her  own  horse;  Bess  Russell 
rode  “Rhone  Howard”;  Ann  Russell,  “Bay  Dormer”; 
Mary  Fitton,1  “Grey  Fitton”;  Ann  Carey,2  “White 
Smythfield”;  Cordall  Onslow,  “White  Howard”;  whilst 
Elizabeth  Southwell  succeeded  to  “Bay  Compton,” 
Margaret  Ratcliffe’s  mount. 

Ann  Russell,  though  she  grieved  over  Margaret’s  loss, 
had  plenty  to  occupy  her  mind  in  connection  with  her 
approaching  marriage  to  Lord  Herbert.3  The  Queen 
whose  own  unhappiness  rendered  her  more  sympathetic 
than  usual  to  love  affairs,  not  only  gave  gracious  per¬ 
mission,  but  promised  to  honour  the  ceremony  with  her 
presence.  This,  though  gratifying,  very  considerably 
complicated  matters,  for  it  meant  that  the  Queen  must 
fix  the  wedding-day. 

Relatives  and  friends  came  up  to  town  in  anticipation 
of  the  event;  still  Elizabeth  gave  no  sign,  till  at  length 
Lady  Russell,  who  feared  no  one  and  possessed  only  a 
very  limited  stock  of  patience,  determined  to  go  over  to 

1  Mary  Fitton,  d.  of  Sir  E.  Fitton,  of  Gawsworth. 

2  Ann  Carey,  d.  of  Sir  E.  Carey,  and  “Katherine  Knevett.” 

3  Son  of  Ed.,  4th  Earl  of  Worcester  and  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings. 


258  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Greenwich  with  all  the  wedding  guests  to  fetch  her 
daughter.  To  the  surprise  of  every  one  she  succeeded: 

“Mistresse  Ann  Russell  went  from  court  upon  Monday 
last  with  1 8  coaches,  the  like  hath  not  been  seen  amongst 
the  Maydes.  The  Queen  in  public  used  of  her  as  gracious 
speeches  as  have  been  heard  of  any,  and  commanded  all 
the  Maydes  to  accompany  her  to  London;  so  did  all  the 
Lords  of  the  Court.  Her  mother  brought  a  great  number 
of  strangers  to  Court;  all  went  in  a  troup  away.”1 

So  great  was  the  company  expected  for  the  wedding, 
that  it  seemed  doubtful  if  Lady  Russell’s  house  at 
Blackfriars  would  be  large  enough  to  hold  them  all. 
Under  the  circumstances  she  judged  it  advisable  to  bury 
the  hatchet  with  her  neighbour,  Lord  Cobham,  and  his 
newly  wedded  wife,  Lady  Kildare,  that  they  might 
accommodate  the  Queen,  and  lend  a  number  of  liveried 
servants  to  wait  at  the  wedding  banquet. 

A  perfedf  June  morning  dawned  for  Ann’s  wedding- 
day,  and  soon  after  sunrise  Lady  Russell’s  household  was 
astir  in  readiness  for  the  great  event.  A  watcher  stationed 
at  the  Watergate  stairs  gave  warning  as  the  Queen’s  barge 
came  in  sight,  so  that  when  Her  Majesty  alighted  the 
bride  and  her  relatives  were  waiting  in  readiness  at  the 
landing-stage.  Elizabeth  spoke  very  graciously  to  Mistress 
Ann;  then,  taking  her  seat  in  an  elaborately  ornamented 
litter  provided  by  Lord  Cobham,  she  was  carried  up  to 
the  house  on  the  shoulders  of  six  knights. 

Ann  wore  a  white  wedding  dress,  covered  with  wedding 
favours  in  different  coloured  ribbons  tied  in  true  lover’s 


1  Rowland  Whyte  to  Sir  R.  Sidney. 


Coll,  of  the  Duke  of  Beaufort\ 


ANN  RUSSELL,  I.ADY  HERBERT 


Photo  11' al foie  Society 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  259 

knots,  and  loosely  stitched  on  to  the  gown.  As  with  all 
brides  she  held  her  hair  loose,  crowned  by  a  chaplet  of 
white  flowers. 

Music  sounding  beneath  the  windows  signalled  the 
arrival  of  Lord  Herbert1  and  Lord  Cobham,  who  had 
come  to  condudf  “Mistress  Bride”  to  church,  Bess 
Russell  and  the  other  bridesmaids  going  to  meet  the 
bridegroom  and  offering  him  sprigs  of  gilded  rose¬ 
mary.2 

Scarcely  had  the  clergyman  concluded  the  wedding 
service  when  the  young  men  and  maids  left  their  seats 
in  the  church,  to  make  usual  onslaught  on  the  newly 
married  couple’s  “favours.” 

“Quickly,  quickly  then  prepare; 

And  let  the  young  men,  and  the  Brides  maids  share 

Your  garters;  and  their  joynts 

Encircle  with  the  Bride-grooms  points.”3 

Older  people,  drinking  the  bride’s  health  from  the 
big  mazer  bowl  filled  with  muscadel,  laughed  at  the 
scrimmage  which  despoiled  Ann  of  her  garters  and 
favours,  for  the  ornamentation  of  the  hats  and  sleeves  of 
her  youthful  friends. 

The  Earls  of  Rutland  and  Cumberland  escorted  the 
new  Lady  Herbert  back  to  her  mother’s  house,  the  guests 
following  in  long  procession  along  the  freshly  sanded 
streets.  Neighbours  had  decorated  their  houses,  and  during 

1  William,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  and  Mary  Sidney, 

2  “My  wooing’s  ended;  now  my  wedding’s  near, 

When  gloves  are  given,  gilded  be  you  there.” 

3  Herrick’s  Hesferides. 


260  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

the  bride’s  absence  at  church  Lady  Russell’s  servants 
festooned  the  porch  with  wreaths  of  summer  flowers. 

The  guests  walked  in  the  pleasant  garden  listening  to 
music,  or  looked  at  the  wedding  presents,  chiefly  in  jewel¬ 
lery  and  plate,  to  the  value  of  _£iooo,  displayed  in  one  of 
the  rooms.  At  five  o’clock  they  sat  down  to  a  grand  ban¬ 
quet,  “the  entertainment  was  great  and  plentiful  and  my 
Lady  Russell  much  commended  for  it.” 

After  the  feast  came  a  masque  performed  by  the  Maids 
of  Honour.  The  girls  had  invented  a  new  dance  especially 
for  the  occasion,  and  “each  had  a  shirt  of  cloth  of  silver,  a 
rich  waistcoat  wrought  with  silkes  and  gold  and  silver,  a 
mantell  of  carnation  taffeta  cast  under  the  arme,  and  their 
hair  loose  about  their  shoulders  curiously  knotted  and  in¬ 
terlaced.”  Into  the  hall  they  came  led  by  Mary  Fitton- 
“and  delicate  it  was  to  see  eight  ladies  so  pretty  and  richly 
attired.”1 

The  masque  ended  in  great  applause  from  the  on, 
lookers,  when  vivacious  Mary  Fitton,  approaching  the 
Queen,  entreated  that  she  would  come  and  join  in  the 
dancing. 

“Who  art  thou?”  inquired  Elizabeth. 

“Affedfion,”  replied  Mary  Fitton,  and  the  word  stung 
the  Queen  to  the  quick. 

“Affedfion!  Affedtion  is  false,”  quoth  she  bitterly.  “Yet 
her  Majestie  rose  and  dawnced.”1 

Ann  had  scarcely  time  to  grow  accustomed  to  the  dig¬ 
nity  of  a  married  woman,  when  a  terrible  grief  over¬ 
whelmed  her  in  the  loss  of  her  only  sister.  Bess,  who 

1  CoDins’  Sydney  Papers. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  261 

danced  so  gaily  at  the  wedding,  fell  dangerously  ill  soon 
after  the  Court  returned  to  Greenwich.  From  the  first 
there  seemed  little  hope  of  recovery,  though  night  and  day 
Lady  Warwick  nursed  her  niece  with  ceaseless  devotion. 
On  the  first  of  July,  less  than  three  weeks  after  Ann’s 
wedding,  Bess  lay  dead,  transforming  the  gaily  decked 
home  at  Blackfriars  to  a  sable-hung  house  of  mourning. 

“All  things  that  we  ordained  festival 
Turn  from  their  office  to  black  funeral; 

Our  instruments  to  melancholy  bells, 

Our  wedding  cheer  to  a  sad  burial  feast.”1 

Elizabeth  Russell  was  buried  in  St.  Edmund’s  Chapel, 
Westminster  Abbey,  beside  Lady  Jane  Seymour,  another 
Maid  of  Honour  who  had  died  in  untimely  youth  forty 
years  before.  An  alabaster  figure  of  the  dead  girl,  seated  in 
a  chair,  was  fashioned  at  Lady  Herbert’s  desire,  and  placed 
in  the  chapel  as  a  memorial  by  her  sorrowing  sister  Ann. 


1  Romeo  and  Juliet,  IV,  5. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


MARY  FITTON,  who  led  the  masque  at  Ann 
Russell’s  wedding,  was  the  younger  daughter  of 
Sir  Edward  Fitton,  of  Gawsworth  in  Cheshire, 
and  his  wife  Alice  Holecroft,  a  sister  of  Isabel  Holecroft — 
now  the  widowed  Countess  of  Rutland.  Mary’s  elder 
sister  Ann  was  married  to  John  Newdegate  of  Arbury,  and 
lived  a  quiet  country  life.  But  quiet  and  the  country  by 
no  means  appealed  to  Mary,  who,  greatly  delighted,  was 
appointed  one  of  the  Queen’s  Maids  of  Honour. 

Sir  Edward  Fitton,  anxious  that  his  seventeen-year-old 
daughter  should  have  some  one  to  whom  she  could  go  for 
advice,  wrote  to  his  old  friend,  Sir  William  Knollys,  Comp¬ 
troller  to  the  Royal  household,  asking  if  he  would  keep  an 
eye  on  Mary  when  she  came  to  Court. 

Sir  William  Knollys  readily  promised  that  he  would  “in 
no  wise  ffayle  to  ffulfill  your  desyre  in  playing  the  good 
sheppard  and  will  to  my  power  deffend  the  innocent  lamb 
from  the  wolvyshe  cruelltye  and  fox-like  subtelltye  of  the 
tame  beasts  of  thys  place,  which  when  they  seme  to  take 
bread  at  a  man’s  hand  will  byte  beffore  they  bark;  all  thyr 
songs  be  syrenlike,  and  theyr  kisses  after  Judas’  ffasshion, 
but  ffrom  such  beasts  delyver  me  and  my  frends.  I  will 
with  my  councill  advyse  your  ffayre  daughter,  with  my 
true  affedlion  love  hyr  and  with  my  sword  deffend  hyr  yff 
need  be,  hir  innocency  will  deserve  yt  and  hyr  vertue  will 
chaleng  yt  at  my  hands,  and  I  will  be  as  carefull  off  her 
weldoing  as  yff  I  wear  hyr  true  ffather.”1 

1  Gossip  from  a  Muniment  Room ,  Lady  Newdigate-Newdegate. 

262 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  263 

So  far  as  intention  went,  Sir  William  was  all  that  could 
be  desired,  and  Mary  may  have  been  an  innocent  little 
country  girl  when  she  first  arrived  at  Court.  Unfortu¬ 
nately,  neither  Mary’s  innocence  nor  Sir  William  Knollys’ 
fatherly  interest  lasted  long.  The  new  Maid  of  Honour,  a 
clever,  vivacious  girl,  very  soon  had  a  circle  of  admirers, 
chief  among  them  being  Sir  William  Knollys.  The  Comp¬ 
troller  might  be  over  fifty,  have  a  wife  already,  but  neither 
of  these  considerations  prevented  him  laying  his  sophisti¬ 
cated  heart  at  Mary  Fitton’s  feet. 

The  girl  led  her  elderly  admirer  a  sorry  time  of  it;  some¬ 
times  she  behaved  nicely,  transporting  Sir  William  to  the 
heights  of  bliss;  at  others  she  smiled  sweetly  upon  more 
youthful  gallants,  thereby  rendering  the  world  a  dour 
place  for  Her  Majesty’s  Comptroller.  When  he  had  tooth¬ 
ache  and  felt  very  sorry  for  himself,  Mary  evinced  no 
sympathy  with  his  sufferings,  and  went  off  to  bed  without 
even  bidding  him  good  night. 

Sir  William,  left  alone  with  a  swollen  face  and  injured 
feelings,  found  relief  in  writing  to  Ann  Newdegate,  not 
scrupling  to  hint  of  his  impatience  that  his  wife,  “old  lady 
Chandos,”  might  speedily  depart  to  a  better  world  and  so 
set  him  free. 

“My  hopes  are  myxt  with  dispayre  and  my  desyres 
starved  with  expectations,  but  wear  my  enjoying  assured, 
I  could  willinglye  endure  purgatorye  ffor  a  season  to  pur¬ 
chase  my  heaven  at  last.  But  the  short  warning,  the  dis- 
temperature  off  my  head  by  reason  off  the  toothake  and 
your  systers  going  to  bed  without  bydding  me  godnight 
will  joyne  in  one  to  be  a  means  that  for  this  tyme  I  will 
onlye  troble  you  with  these  ffew  lynes  skribbled  in  hast, 


264  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

and  wishing  you  all  happynes  a  good  delyverye  off  your 
burden,  and  your  syster  in  the  same  case  justiffyable,  I 
leave  you  to  God’s  good  protedfyon,  myself  to  your  dearest 
systers  true  love  and  hyr  to  a  constant  resolution  to  love 
hym  onlye  who  cannot  but  ever  love  hyr  best  and  thus 
with  my  best  salutations  I  will  ever  remayne, 

Your  most  assured  ffrend, 

I  would  fayne  saye  brother, 

W.  Knollys.”1 

Ann  Newdegate  asked  the  love-lorn  Comptroller  to 
stand  gossip  to  her  first  child.  Though  unable  by  reason 
of  Court  duties  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony,  Sir  William 
deputed  his  brother-in-law,  Sir  Christopher  Blount,  “  to 
supplye  my  place  in  makyng  your  lytle  one  a  Christian 
soule  and  gyve  yt  what  name  yt  shall  pleasure  you.  I 
magyne  what  name  I  love  best  and  that  I  nominate  but 
reffer  the  choyse  to  yourselff.” 

Ann  Newdegate  had  not  much  difficulty  in  guessing  the 
name  which  sounded  sweet  in  Sir  William’s  ears,  and  his 
little  god-daughter  received  the  name  of  Mary. 

Mary  Fitton  was  a  bad  letter  writer,  so  that,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Sir  William  Knollys’s  adfive  correspondence 
with  Ann,  the  family  at  home  would  have  heard  little  of 
her.  Even  when  she  did  take  out  her  standish  and  sand¬ 
box,  Mary’s  long  quill  proved  by  no  means  the  pen  of  a 
ready  writer. 

“To  my  dearest  syster  Mrs  An  Newdegate. 

“Since  distance  bares  me  from  so  gret  hapenes  as  I  can 
seldom  hear  from  you  which  when  I  do  is  welcome,  as  I 

1  Gossip  from  a  Muniment  Room,  Lady  Newdigate-Newdegate. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  265 

esteem  nothing  more  worthie  and  for  your  love  which  I 
dout  not  shal  be  equeled  in  ful  mesuer,  but  lest  my  lines 
to  tedius  wear  and  time  that  limites  all  things  bare  me  of 
words  which  else  would  never  ses  to  tel  howe  dear  you 
ar,  and  with  what  sele  I  desire  your  retoune,  than  can 
wish  nothing  then  your  harte’s  desir  and  wil  ever  con- 
tinow  your  afedfionet  sister.  Mary  Phytton.”1 

Mary  entered  with  zest  into  every  gaiety  and  soon  be¬ 
came  one  of  the  best  dancers  at  Court,  whether  at  dignified 
measures,  stately  Pavanes,  nimble  galliards,2  wild  whirling 
heyes,  the  popular  Trenchmore,  or  the  Merry  Volte,  a 
new  dance  enthusiastically  described  by  one  of  its  votaries: 

“Yet  is  there  one  the  most  delightful  kind, 

A  lofty  jumping  or  a  leaping  round, 

Where  arm  in  arm  two  dancers  are  entwin’d, 

And  whirl  themselves  with  strict  embracements  bound. 

And  still  their  feet  an  anapest  do  sound, 

An  anapest  is  all  their  music’s  song, 

Whose  first  two  feet  are  short  and  third  is  long.”3 

Sir  William  Knollys  did  not  approve  of  these  new¬ 
fangled  dances,  looking  glumly  on  when  younger  men 
claimed  his  “dearest  dear”  as  partner.  Very  sorely  did  he 
fear  he  would  never  “be  so  happye  as  to  possess  the  ffayre 
Slower  of  this  summer’s  garden.” 

Jealousy  of  younger  men,  together  with  anxiety  for  his 
nephew,  the  Earl  of  Essex,  preyed  on  the  Comptroller’s 
mind,  so  that  Mary  chid  him  for  being  melancholy,  which 

1  Gossip  from  a  Muniment  Room ,  Lady  Newdigate-Newdegate. 

2  Sir  Toby  Belch,  “What  is  thy  excellence  in  a  galliard,  knight?’ 

Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  “Faith,  I  can  cut  a  caper.” 

3  Sir  John  Davies,  Orchestra ,  Twelfth  Night,  I,  3. 


266  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

he  resented  as  coming  “ffrom  hyr  who  when  I  am  myself 
ys  the  onlye  comffortt  off  my  heart.” 

A  rich  New  Year’s  gift,  appearing  “as  it  were  in  a  cloud 
no  man  knew  how,”  but  every  one  guessed,  remained  for 
some  time  in  the  hands  of  Sir  William  Knollys,  as  the 
Queen  would  neither  accept  nor  refuse  it.  In  the  end  she 
ordered  its  return,  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  impas¬ 
sioned  letters  which  Essex  sent,  begging  for  an  interview: 

“If  your  Majesty  will  vouchsafe  to  let  me  once  pros¬ 
trate  myself  at  your  feet,  and  behold  your  fair  and 
gracious  eyes,  though  it  be  unknown  to  all  the  world  but 
to  him  that  your  Majesty  shall  appoint  to  bring  me  to 
that  paradise.” 

Elizabeth  read  the  words  with  heartache;  if  she  could 
have  believed  them  she  would  have  forgiven,  but  the 
bitterness  of  understanding  revealed  to  her  that,  though 
she  might  command  her  young  favourites’  lip  service 
their  hearts  were  elsewhere.  She,  who  had  always  been 
first,  could  not  brook  half-hearted  affedlion  from  those  she 
loved.  Rather  than  be  last  she  would  be  nothing  and  cut 
them  for  ever  out  of  her  life,  though  by  so  doing  she 
suffered  soul-searing  agony. 

She  might  have  turned  for  consolation  to  Lord  Mount- 
joy,  who  had  succeeded  Essex  as  lord  deputy  in  Ireland, 
but  for  the  knowledge  that 

“When  nature  made  her  chief  work  Stella’s  eyes, 

In  colour  black.” 

Nature  had  fashioned  something  for  the  ensnaring  of 
men.  Philip  Sidney  had  thrilled  at  the  sight  of  them;  so, 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  267 

too,  did  my  Lord  Mountjoy,  as  the  Lord  Admiral  hinted 
when  he  wrote  to  him,  “I  think  Her  Majesty  would  be 
most  glad  to  see  and  look  upon  your  dark  eyes  here,  so  she 
were  sure  you  would  not  look  with  too  much  respedf  on 
other  black  eyes.”1 

Essex  and  Mountjoy  being  out  of  Court,  efforts  were 
made  to  introduce  new  favourites  who  might  captivate  the 
Queen’s  fancy.  Among  these  were  Lord  Herbert,  Mary 
Sidney’s  eldest  son,  who  had  recently  prevailed  on  his 
father  to  allow  him  to  reside  in  London.  The  Queen 
showed  him  special  favour  for  his  mother’s  sake,  as  she 
explained  to  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  when  the  lad  went 
home  on  a  visit;  “he  shall  be  right  welcome  back  to  us 
again:  but  how  much  the  more  for  her  sake  that  bare 
him  leave  rather  to  herself  to  judge  than  to  our  pen  to 
describe.”2 

A  clever,  personable  young  man,  Lord  Herbert  exas¬ 
perated  the  friends  who  wished  him  to  supplant  the  dis¬ 
graced  Earl  of  Essex  by  his  own  indifference  to  the  honour. 
Bitterly  they  reproached  him  for  being  a  melancholy 
young  man,  and  “too  cold  a  courtier  in  a  matter  of  such 
greatness.”  Though  showing  no  inclination  for  a  flirtation 
with  a  queenly  virgin  nearing  seventy,  my  Lord  Herbert 
was  very  ready  to  embark  on  such  an  enterprise  with  one 
of  the  Maids  of  Honour. 

Mary  Fitton  met  him  more  than  half-way,  for  anything 
in  the  nature  of  excitement  appealed  to  the  highly  strung 
girl.  In  the  evenings,  when  shadowy  dusk  blurred  outlines 

1  Printed  in  Devereux’s  Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex. 

2  Pepys’s  MS.,  Hist.  MSS  .  Com. 


268  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

and  the  grey  mists  rolled  up  from  the  river,  Mary  would 
throw  a  long  white  cloak  over  her  Court  dress  and,  imi¬ 
tating  a  man’s  swagger,  leave  the  brightly  lit  Palace  to 
walk  with  her  love  in  the  gardens. 

Sir  William  Knollys,  ignorant  of  much,  but  suspecting 
more  than  was  good  for  his  peace  of  mind,  feared  that 
despite  her  age  “old  lady  Chandos”  would  never  make 
him  a  widower  in  time  to  marry  Mary.  As  he  told  Ann 
Newdegate  in  mixed  metaphors,  “While  the  grasse  groeth 
the  horse  maye  starve;  and  she  thinketh  a  byrd  in  the  bush 
ys  worth  2  in  the  hand.” 

Mary  was  imprudent,  Lord  Herbert  inconstant,  and 
the  intrigue  ended  in  scandal.  Elizabeth,  who  prided 
herself  on  the  chastity  of  her  Court,  threatened  all 
and  sundry  with  imprisonment.  The  Maids  of  Honour 
in  particular  came  in  for  a  bad  time  and  general  sympathy, 
on  account  “of  the  persecution  (which)  is  like  to  befall 
the  poor  maids  chamber  in  Court,  and  of  Fytton’s 
afflictions.”1 

Lord  Herbert,  who  had  recently  succeeded  his  father  as 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  while  admitting  responsibility  for 
Mary’s  condition,  refused  to  marry  her,  and  was  com¬ 
mitted  to  the  Fleet  prison  in  expiation  of  his  offence. 

Sir  William  Knollys,  his  faith  in  womenkind  wholly 
shaken,  could  not  tear  Mary  from  his  heart,  so  “sweete  and 
pleasant”  had  been  the  “blossom”  of  his  love,  so  “com- 
ffortable  and  cordiall”  to  his  heart.  Even  though  “the  man 
off  synne”  (Pembroke)  had  done  so  ill,  Sir  William  still 
hoped  that  if  ever  it  did  please  the  Almighty  to  remember 

1  Carew  MSS. 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  269 

the  aged  infirmities  of  “old  lady  Chandos,”1  he  might 
claim  Mary2  for  his  own.  He  assured  Ann  that  “no  earth- 
lye  creature  ys  Mistress  off  my  love,  nor  ys  like  to  be,  as 
not  willing  to  trust  a  woman  wlh  that  wch  was  so  truelye 
gyven  and  so  unduelye  rejedfed.” 

Sir  Edward  Fitton,  hearing  of  his  daughter’s  disgrace, 
hurried  up  to  London  and,  eventually  obtaining  her 
“enlargement,”  carried  Mary3  away  from  her  former 
triumphs  and  disgrace  back  to  the  old  home  in  Cheshire. 

1  She  died  in  1605,  and  two  months  later  Sir  William  Knollys 
(sixty-one)  married  Lady  Elizabeth  Howard  (nineteen),  daughter 
of  Thomas,  Earl  of  Suffolk.  He  was  made  Earl  of  Banbury  in  1626, 
and  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-eight  in  1632. 

2  Mary  Fitton  has  been  suggested  as  the  “dark  lady”  of  Shake¬ 
speare’s  Sonnets,  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  being  one  of  the  candidates 
for  “Mr.W.H.” 

3  Mary,  circa  1607,  married  William  Polewheele,  and,  2ndly, 
John  Lougher.  She  died  in  1647. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


THE  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  saw  the  end  of 
that  brilliant  Court  life  which  had  been  such  a 
feature  of  the  reign  for  over  forty  years.  Gaiety 
of  a  sort  there  was  still,  for  the  Queen  took  an  active  part 
in  all  amusements,  spurred  on  by  a  grim  determination  to 
prove  her  perennial  youthfulness.  Other  women  verging 
on  seventy  might  show  signs  of  physical  infirmity,  but 
not  the  peerless  Elizabeth  still  admired  and  desired  of  all 
men. 

Self-willed  and  indomitable,  Elizabeth  hid  an  aching 
heart.  She  might  coquette  with  Henry  Carey1  and  other 
young  courtiers  “all  in  election  at  court  who  shall  set  the 
best  legge  foremost,”  but  she  could  not  deceive  herself 
into  loving  them.  Essex  alone  possessed  the  power  to 
give  her  happiness,  and  of  his  indifference  she  could  no 
longer  doubt.  Stung  both  in  her  pride  and  love,  she 
grieved  with  an  intensity  of  suffering  that  robbed  life  of 
all  savour. 

In  anger  at  the  Queen’s  continued  obstinacy,  Essex 
declared  “her  conditions  were  as  crooked  as  her  carcas,” 
and  talebearers  carried  the  words  to  Court.  Cut  to  the 
quick  was  Elizabeth  that  Essex,  the  one  person  in  the 
world  she  loved,  should  have  called  in  question  her 
incomparable  beauty.  The  very  depth  of  her  affedlion 

1  Son  of  Sir  Edward  Carey  and  “Katherine  Knevett.”  Knighted 
by  Essex  in  Ireland,  created  Viscount  Falkland.  Was  father  of 
Lucius  Carey,  2nd  Lord  Falkland,  the  famous  cavalier  slain  at 
Newbury. 


270 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  271 

made  forgiveness  impossible:  to  have  him  back  at  Court 
would  but  be  to  torture  herself;  things  could  never  be 
the  same  again;  therefore  it  was  better  that  he  should 
remain  in  disgrace. 

Elizabeth’s  own  unhappiness  quickened  her  sympathies 
towards  those  in  trouble,  and  when  her  old  friend 
“Katherine  Knevett”  (Lady  Paget-Carey),  lost  one  of 
her  daughters,  the  Queen  wrote  at  once  to  comfort  her. 

“Call  to  mind  good  Kate,  how  hardly  we  Princes  can 
brook  of  crossing  of  our  commands;  how  yreful  wyll  the 
heist  power  (you  may  be  sure)  when  murmurings  shall 
be  made  of  his  pleasingst  will?  Let  nature  therefore  not 
hurt  herself,  but  give  plase  to  the  giver.  Though  this 
lesson  from  a  serly  vicar,  yet  it  is  sent  from  a  loving 
soveraine.”1 

The  young  Maids  of  Honour,  clad  in  white  and  silver, 
grouped  themselves  round  the  Queen  to  form  a  dainty 
background  as  their  mothers  and  grandmothers  had  done 
before  them;  but  unlike  the  earlier  Maids  of  Honour 
they  were  the  attendants  not  companions  of  their 
mistress.  She  might  share  in  their  amusements,  but  no 
bridge  could  span  the  disparity  between  old  age  and  early 
teens.  As  the  Queen  walked  about  the  Palace  grounds, 
where  busy  gardeners  in  never-ending  labour  plied  their 
besoms  against  the  rusted  autumn  leaves,  falling  in 
rustling  showers  from  copper-tinted  trees,  the  girls 
followed  demurely  in  her  wake.  Their  thoughts  were  of 
the  future  and  their  own  love  affairs;  Elizabeth’s  of  the 
past  and  her  disgraced  favourite. 

1  Nichols’s  Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


2ji  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

The  Earl  of  Essex,  who  had  at  first  professed  deep 
penitence,  began  to  lose  patience.  When  he  realized  the 
astonishing  fa6t  that  he  had  lost  his  hold  on  the  Queen, 
he  shifted  “from  sorrowe  and  repentance  to  rage  and 
rebellion.”  Then  were  there  plotters  at  Essex  house; 
desperate  men  with  wild  schemes  to  seize  the  Queen  and 
force  her  to  do  their  will. 

On  Sunday,  February  8th,  came  exciting  news  from 
the  city;  my  Lords  of  Essex  and  Southampton  had  sallied 
out  into  the  streets  of  London  with  their  followers  to 
raise  a  rebellion  against  Her  Majesty.  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Popham,  the  Earl  of  Worcester,  and  Sir  William  Knollys, 
having  gone  to  Essex  House  to  investigate  matters,  had 
been  taken  prisoners  and  were  now  locked  up  under  guard 
of  the  rebels. 

Consternation  reigned  at  Whitehall  lest  the  insurgents 
should  arrive  to  storm  the  Palace.  Carts  and  coaches  were 
placed  as  barricades  across  the  road  leading  to  Charing 
Cross;  courtiers  drew  their  swords  in  readiness,  reinforced 
by  the  citizens  of  Westminster,  who  came  hurrying  to  the 
defence  of  their  Queen.  Amidst  all  the  excitement, 
Elizabeth  retained  her  wonted  courage,  even  suggesting 
going  out  in  person  to  meet  the  rebels,  declaring  the  very 
sight  of  her  would  be  sufficient  to  disperse  them.  This 
idea  did  not  commend  itself  to  the  ladies  who  would  have 
been  obliged  to  accompany  her,  so  that  they  were  greatly 
relieved  when  word  came  that  the  rebellion  had  failed 
and  the  ringleaders  been  secured. 

The  Queen’s  outward  calm  proved  but  the  veneer  of 
intense  emotion,  which  showed  itself  dire&ly  the  danger 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  273 

was  over.  Sir  John  Harrington,  seeing  his  godmother, 
described  the  state  she  was  in: 

“She  is  quite  disfavoured  and  unattired,  and  these 
troubles  waste  her  much.  She  disregardeth  every  costlie 
cover  that  cometh  to  the  table,  and  eateth  little  but  man- 
cheat  and  succory  pottage — every  new  message  from  the 
city  doth  disturb  her,  and  she  frowns  on  all  her  ladies.  I  had 
a  sharp  message  from  her  brought  by  my  Lord  Buckhurst, 
namely  this:  ‘Go  tell  that  witty  fellow,  my  godson,  to 
get  home;  it  is  no  season  to  fool  here.’  I  liked  this  as  little 
as  she  doth  my  knighthood,  so  took  to  my  boots  and 
returned  to  the  plow  in  bad  weather.  I  must  not  say 
much  even  by  this  trusty  messenger;  but  the  many  evil 
plots  and  designs  have  overcome  all  her  Highness’  sweet 
temper.  She  walkes  much  in  her  privy  chamber,  and 
stamps  with  her  feet  at  ill  news,  and  thrusts  her  rusty 
sword  at  times  in  the  Arras  in  great  rage.  My  Lord 
Buckhurst  is  much  with  her,  and  few  else  since  the  city 
business;  but  the  dangers  are  over,  and  yet  she  always 
keeps  a  sword  by  her  table.”1 

The  Earl  of  Essex  was  tried,  convidted,  and  condemned 
to  death.  Elizabeth,  called  on  to  sign  his  death  warrant, 
knew  not  what  to  do.  More  and  more  she  missed  the  wise 
counsel  of  old  Lord  Burleigh,  whose  name  she  could  not 
hear  mentioned  without  tears, 
the  country,  Essex  deserved  to  die:  he  had  deserted  the 
army  in  a  time  of  grave  national  danger,  and  had  raised 
the  standard  of  rebellion.  He  had  been  disloyal  to  Eliza¬ 
beth  as  a  Queen,  and  false  to  her  as  a  woman. 

After  miserable  days,  followed  by  sleepless  nights, 

1  Sir  John  Harrington’s  Nuges  Antiques. 


According  to  the  laws  of 


274  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Elizabeth  affixed  her  signature  to  the  warrant  for  the 
Earl’s  execution.  At  the  same  time  she  kept  in  mind  a 
reservation  that,  if  in  full  token  of  his  submission  he 
sent  the  ring  she  had  once  given  him  for  just  such  an 
emergency,  she  would  keep  her  promise  and  pardon  his 
life. 

Throughout  his  disgrace  Essex  had  nourished  too  much 
resentment  to  use  this  talisman,  but  when  he  heard  the 
Queen  had  consented  to  his  death  he  determined  to  do  so. 
Watching  the  passers-by  from  his  prison  window,  he 
presently  called  a  bright-faced  boy  to  be  his  messenger, 
bidding  him  hie  with  all  speed  to  Whitehall  and  give  the 
ring  into  the  hands  of  Lady  Scrope. 

The  boy  fulfilled  the  trust  in  so  much  that  he  went  to 
Whitehall,  and  succeeded  in  gaining  admission  on  the 
plea  that  he  had  an  important  message  to  deliver  to  one 
of  the  Queen’s  ladies.  Not  knowing  Lady  Scrope  by  sight 
however,  he  gave  the  ring  by  mistake  to  her  sister,  the 
Countess  of  Nottingham. 

“Kate  Carey,”  so  long  keeper  of  the  Queen’s  jewels, 
recognized  the  ring  at  once;  she  had  seen  it  often  on 
Elizabeth’s  finger,  and  later  on  the  hand  of  the  Earl  of 
Essex.  Guessing  the  significance  of  its  return  she  con¬ 
sulted  her  husband  before  taking  it  to  the  Queen.  The 
Lord  Admiral  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  told  his  wife  to  say 
nothing  of  the  matter  to  anyone. 

Elizabeth  waiting  for  the  ring  hardened  her  heart, 
thinking  in  her  bitterness  that  Essex  would  rather  die 
than  sue  for  pardon.  They  had  pitted  their  strong  wills 
against  each  other  so  often  in  the  past,  but  this  time  she 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  275 

would  not  be  the  one  to  give  in,  and  on  Wednesday, 
25th  of  February,  1601,  Essex  was  brought  to  the  block. 

Elizabeth  gave  no  sign  of  what  she  felt,  and  seemingly 
life  at  Court  went  on  just  as  usual,  though  those  about  the 
Queen  clearly  realized  she  was  failing.  No  one  would  have 
ventured  to  voice  such  a  remark,  for  the  older  she 
became  the  more  resolute  was  Elizabeth  not  to  admit  any 
sign  of  physical  weakness.  She  suffered  sorely  from  gout, 
only  no  one  dared  to  call  it  gout,  so  that  the  coronation 
ring  which  she  had  worn  night  and  day  since  her  accession 
had  to  be  filed  off  her  finger. 

The  cessation  of  progresses  being  spoken  of  as  a  sign 
of  old  age,  caused  Elizabeth  to  start  on  a  progress 
immediately.  A  well-meaning  but  tadfless  courtier, 
representing  that  a  coach  was  the  most  comfortable 
conveyance  for  one  of  her  years,  caused  Elizabeth  to 
ride  on  horseback.  One  day  she  rode  ten  miles  and  hunted 
by  the  way,  being  so  weary  on  dismounting  that  she  could 
scarcely  stand  and  complained  of  the  horse’s  bad  paces. 
When  thoroughly  unwell,  she  went  out  for  a  walk  lest 
anyone  should  comment  on  her  ill  health,  and  nearly 
every  night  she  joined  the  Maids  of  Honour  at  their 
dances. 

Death,  the  reaper,  had  plied  his  sickle  freely  among  the 
ladies  who  in  their  youth  had  formed  a  white  and  silver 
background  round  the  Queen,  whose  friends  they  had 
remained  throughout  their  lives.  Of  the  two  “old  Maids” 
only  Mary  Radcliffe,  now  Keeper  of  the  Jewels,  remained, 
for  Catherine  Howard  had  passed  over  to  the  great 
beyond. 


276  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

“Kate  Carey,”  best  beloved  of  all,  suffering  from  ague 
and  chronic  ill  health,  relinquished  her  place  as  lady  of 
the  bedchamber,  and  one  day  there  came  a  message  to 
say  she  lay  dying  at  Arundel  House,  in  the  Strand. 
Elizabeth  in  great  grief  ordered  her  coach  and  hastened 
to  say  good-bye  to  her  friend.  With  tear-dimmed  eyes 
she  saw  the  Countess  lying  white-faced  in  a  great 
four-post  bed.  Rallying  herself,  Kate  said  she  had 
something  she  must  confess  before  she  died.  With  gasping 
breath,  she  told  her  listening  cousin  how  she  had  failed  to 
deliver  the  ring  which  the  Earl  of  Essex  had  sent  to  the 
Queen.  Two  years  it  had  weighed  on  her  mind,  now  on  the 
threshold  of  death  she  begged  forgiveness.  Elizabeth, 
beside  herself  with  rage  and  grief,  seized  the  dying 
woman  by  the  shoulder,  crying  as  she  shook  her,  “God 
may  forgive  you,  but  I  never  can.” 

The  Queen  returned  to  the  Palace  stupefied  with  grief. 
She  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep,  for  the  prop  of  her  just 
resentment  against  Essex  had  been  taken  away.  Back 
came  the  overwhelming  love  she  had  had  for  him, 
enshrining  little  adfs  of  kindness,  slurring  over  his  faults. 
After  all  he  had  trusted  her,  and  gone  to  his  death  think¬ 
ing  her  unfaithful.  Suddenly  she  seemed  to  have  lost  all 
interest  in  life,  sitting  sadly  in  a  darkened  room  crying 
and  bewailing  Essex. 

Lady  Warwick,  Lady  Scrope  and  Lady  Southwell,  who 
were  in  waiting,  thought  a  change  would  be  beneficial, 
and  suggested  a  remove  to  Richmond.  This  took  place  on 
a  cold,  raw  day  in  January,  when  the  Queen’s  heavy 
coach,  followed  by  those  of  the  household,  rumbled  over 


Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour  277 

Richmond  Green,  under  the  archway  into  the  courtyard. 
Great  fires  blazed  on  the  hearths;  maidservants  scurried 
along  the  corridors  carrying  long-handled  warming-pans 
to  take  the  chill  from  linen  sheets;  all  the  usual  bustle 
upstairs  and  down,  consequent  when  the  Court  returned. 

Elizabeth  grew  no  better;  apathetically  she  sat  all  day 
on  a  pile  of  cushions,  staring  listlessly  into  space,  with 
dim  unseeing  eyes.  Once  did  she  rouse  herself  and  spread 
consternation  among  the  ladies.  The  word  went  round 
that  Her  Majesty  had  commanded  a  mirror  to  be  brought 
to  her.  Ladies  of  the  bedchamber  and  Maids  of  Honour 
alike  trembled,  for  the  Queen  had  not  seen  her  reflection 
for  twenty  years  or  more.  Elizabeth  took  the  glass  so 
reluctantly  brought  to  her,  and  saw  not  the  beautiful 
reflection  of  her  memory,  but  a  lean,  haggard,  wrinkled 
old  woman.  As  she  touched  the  depths  of  self-humiliation 
vanity  took  wing,  and  she  fell  into  bitter  railing  at  those 
flatterers  who  had  declared  her  charms  in  no  wise  abated. 

Food  and  drink  alike  she  refused,  nor  could  the  ladies 
persuade  her  to  go  to  bed,  till  in  despair  Lady  Southwell 
called  in  the  assistance  of  the  Lord  Admiral,  who  prevailed 
where  they  had  failed. 

The  Maids  of  Honour  feared  to  go  into  the  room  with 
the  strange,  motionless  figure;  nor  were  their  fears 
allayed  by  the  discovery  of  a  queen  of  hearts  playing 
card  nailed  to  the  Queen’s  chair.  None  durst  remove 
it,  fearing  witchcraft,  but  from  that  moment  they 
despaired  of  their  mistress’s  recovery. 

Witchcraft,  broken  heart,  or  old  age,  on  March  24th, 
1603,  the  sands  of  Elizabeth’s  life  glass  were  running  low. 


278  Queen  Elizabeth’s  Maids  of  Honour 

Lady  Warwick,  Lady  Scrope  and  Lady  Southwell 
watched  by  the  royal  bedside;  ladies  and  Maids  of 
Honour,  assembled  together  in  the  Coffer  Chamber,  spent 
the  night  in  tears;  courtiers  trod  soft-footed  in  the  hushed 
Palace.  Robert  Carey,  firm  in  resolve  to  be  the  first  to 
tell  the  King  of  Scots  of  his  inheritance  and  knowing  that 
efforts  would  be  made  to  keep  the  Queen’s  death  secret, 
had  arranged  with  his  sister,  Philadelphia,  for  a  signal. 
Slow  passed  the  hours,  but  at  chill  dawn  a  lattice 
window  opened  softly,  and  Lady  Scrope  dropped  a 
sapphire  ring  to  her  brother  waiting  below  as  a  sign  that 
Elizabeth,  Queen  of  England,  had  quitted  her  earthly 
kingdom. 


INDEX 


A 

Anjou,  Alenfon,  Duke  of,  ioo,  ioi, 
xi 6,  1 1 8,  121,  124,  128-137 
Anjou,  Henry,  Duke  of,  94,  98, 
100 

Arundell,  Mistress,  42,  43,  65 
Arundell,  Robert,  Sir,  42,  43 
Ashley,  Mrs.,  7,  21,  52,  148 
Aylmer,  Bishop,  151 

B 

Bacon,  Francis,  Sir,  165,  21 1 
Bacon,  Lady,  253 
Baden,  Margravine  of,  55 
Barnes,  Barnabe,  191 
Bedford,  Bridget,  Countess  of,  187, 
188,  189 

Bedford,  Edward,  Earl  of,  193 
Bedford,  Francis,  Earl  of,  55 
Berkley,  Richard,  Sir,  253 
Bertie  Peregrine  ;  see  Willoughby, 
Lord 

Bertie,  Richard,  67,  140 
Blount,  Charles ;  see  Mount  joy 
Lord 

Blount,  Christopher,  209,  264 
Boonen,  61 

Brackinbury,  Richard,  88,  106,  107 
Brandon,  Frances,  Lady,  18,  24 
Bridges,  Catherine,  76,  77,  78,  89, 
106,  219 

Bridges,  Eleanor,  76,  106,  219 


Bridges,  Elizabeth,  219-223 
Bridges,  Grey,  222 
Brydges ;  see  Bridges 
Burleigh,  Lady,  91,  253 
Burleigh,  Lord,  1 6,  34,  39,  46,  52, 
S3,  65,  66,  69,  70,  77,  89,  91,  92, 
99,  113,  138,  140,  150,  165,  203, 
204,  241,  242,  250,  273 

C 

Canterbury,  Archbishop  of,  90 
Carew,  George,  Sir,  240 
Carey,  Ann,  257 

Carey,  Kate,  10,  16,  25,  40,  57,  59, 
133,  200,  250,  274,  276 
Carey,  Philadelphia,  10,  57,  59,  20 1 
250,  274,  276,  278 
Carey,  Robert,  150,  278 
Cavendish,  Mistress,  153,  180 
Cavendish,  Thomas,  150,  153 
Cecil,  Ann,  77,  88,  89,  91,  92,  133, 
140,  179,  187 

Cecil,  Robert,  Sir,  173,  175,  180, 
222,  231,  235,  246,  254,  255 
Cecil,  William  ;  see  Burleigh,  Lord 
Challoner,  Thomas,  Sir,  16 
Chandos,  Lady,  219 
Chandos,  Dorothy,  Lady,  220,  234, 
263,  268,  269 
Chandos,  Giles,  Lord,  219 
Chandos,  William,  Lord,  222 
Cobham,  Lady,  18,  256 
279 


28o 


Index 


Cobham,  Henry,  Lord,  232,  244, 
245»  255»  258,  259 
Compton,  Lord,  224,  225 
Coningsby,  Thomas,  83,  86,  87,  88, 
107 

Cordell,  William,  Sir,  no,  114, 
116 

Cumberland,  George,  Earl  of,  201- 
203,  259 

D 

Dee,  John,  Dr.,  8,  96,  97 
Delves,  George,  88 
Denny,  Edward,  144 
Derby,  Lady  ;  see  Vere,  Elizabeth 
Derby,  William,  Earl  of,  204-8 
Devereux,  Dorothy,  124,  151,  233, 
251 

Devereux,  Penelope,  104-5,  124, 
125,126,  127,  133,  143,  232,  251, 
252,  266,  267 
Dinghen,  Mrs.,  59 
Drake,  Francis,  Sir,  160,  218 
Drury,  Lady ;  see  Stafford,  Eliza¬ 
beth 

Drury,  William,  Sir,  89,  115,  116 
Dudley,  Lady  ;  see  Howard,  Mary 
Dudley,  Guildford,  Lord,  16,  28 
Dudley,  Robert,  Lord  ;  see  Leices¬ 
ter,  Earl  of 

Dudley,  Robert,  99,  180 
Dyer,  Edward,  103,  105,  137 

E 

Edgecumbe,  Margaret,  134,  144 
Edwards,  Richard,  10,  55 


Essex,  Lady ;  see  Walsingham, 
Francis 

Essex,  Robert,  Earl  of,  153,  167, 
169,  209,  210,  211,  212,  213,  215, 
216,  217,  218,  222,  233,  234,  235, 
239-248,  250,  251,  252,  253,  265, 
266,  270,  272,  273,  274,  275 
Essex,  Walter,  Earl  of,  41,  104 

F 

Fenelon,  de  la  Mothe,  95,  100,  101 
Feria,  Count  de,  17 
Fitton,  Edward,  Sir,  160,  161,  262, 
269 

Fitton,  Mary,  257,  260,  262-69 
Fortescue,  John,  Sir,  242 
Frobisher,  Martin,  154,  161 

G 

Gascoigne,  George,  77 
Gorges,  Arthur,  148,  150 
Greene,  Robert,  79 
Gresham,  Thomas,  70,  72,  73,  74 
Greville,  Fulke,  103,  105,  137,  211 
Grey,  Arthur,  Lord,  56,  63 
Grey,  Catherine,  Lady,  8,  16-24, 
26-32,  33,  41,  51,  65,  69,  107 
Grey,  Jane,  Lady,  8,  9,  10,  16,  19, 
30 

Grey,  John,  Lord,  32 
Grey,  Mary,  Lady,  8,  24,  27,  63- 
71,  72 

H 

Harding,  Mary,  190,  192,  193,  194 
Harvey,  Edmund,  37,  38 


Index  281 


Harvey,  Gabriel,  83,  103 
Harvey,  Isabella,  37,  38 
Harrington,  John,  Sir,  148,  247, 
273 

Hastings,  Elizabeth,  Lady,  76,  88, 
89 

Hatton,  Christopher,  Sir,  55,  85, 

87,  130,  140,  153,  187 
Hawkins,  John,  Sir,  161 
Hawtry,  Edward,  66,  67 
Henry  VIII,  30,  117,  240,  257 
Herbert,  Lord ;  see  Worcester, 

Earl  of 

Herbert,  Lord ;  see  Pembroke, 
Earl  of 

Herbert,  Henry,  Lord,  257,  259 
Hertford,  Edward,  Earl  of,  18,  19, 
21,22,  23,  24,  27,  29,31,32,107, 
143,  176-86 

Hertford,  Lady ;  see  Howard, 
Frances 

Holcroft,  Isabel,  77,  88,  90,  187, 
262 

Holcroft,  Julyan,  Lady,  90 
Howard,  Catherine,  76,  179,  187 
201,  275 

Howard,  Charles,  Lord  ;  see  Nott¬ 
ingham,  Earl  of 

Howard,  Elizabeth,  132,  134,  144, 
250,  276,  277 

Howard,  Frances,  76,  83,  86,  87, 

88,  98,  107,  132,  134,  143, 
176-86 

Howard,  Lady  ;  see  Carey,  Kate 
Howard,  Mary,  10,  76,  83,  89,  90 


Howard,  Mary,  Lady,  182,  192, 
212-16 

Hunsdon,  Lord,  49,  196,  197 
Huntingdon,  Countess  of,  144,  145 
Huntingdon,  Earl  of,  126 

J 

Jonson,  Ben,  249 
K 

Keyes,  Sergeant,  12,  20,  63,  65,  70 
Kildare,  Frances,  Countess  of,  232, 
244,  255,  258 

Knevett,  Katherine,  10,  16,  58,  59, 
133,  180,  201,  257,  270,  271 
Knollys,  Cecilia,  10,  59,  200,  233 
Knollys,  Francis,  Sir,  13,  39 
Knollys,  Henry,  55 
Knollys,  Lettice,  10,  16,  41,  53, 
104,  122,  123,  124,  129,  143, 
166,  209,  210,  233,  234,  235, 
241,  252 

Knollys,  William,  Sir,  137,  217, 
220,  233,  234,  240,  242,  262-69, 
272 

L 

Lee,  Henry,  Sir,  10,  85,  87,  135, 
201,  202,  203 

Leicester,  Robert,  Earl  of,  12,  25, 
28,  29,  48,51,52,53,56,  57,  97, 
98,  99,  104,  xo8,  1 18,  120,  122, 
123,  137,  143,  145,  153,  163,  165, 
166,  167,  209,  239 
Leighton,  Lady ;  see  Knollys, 
Cecilia 


282 

Leighton,  Thomas,  Sir,  55 
Lister,  Charles,  221,  222 

M 

Manners,  Bridget,  Lady,  182,  187— 

i$>8>  233 

Manners,  Roger,  189,  193,  194, 
195 

Marlowe,  Christopher,  149,  169 
Mary,  Queen  of  England,  7,  136, 

138 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  9,  17,  49,  50, 
51,  52,  70,  92,  143,  256 
Medici,  Catherine  de,  94,  95,  100, 
101 

Melville,  James,  Sir,  48,  49,  50 
Mendoza,  Bernardino,  159 
Mildmay,  Thomas,  58 
Mildmay,  Walter,  Sir,  58 
Montagu,  Mrs.,  40 
Mountjoy,  Lord,  210,  211,  216, 
252,  2 66,  267 

N 

Newdigate,  Ann,  Lady,  262,  263, 
264,  268,  269 
Norfolk,  Duke  of,  92 
North,  Roger,  Lord,  79,  117,  118 
Northumberland,  Earl  of,  192,  204, 
233 

Nottingham,  Charles  Howard,  Earl 
of,  58,  85,  87,137,  161,174,  240, 
250,  256,  267,  274,  277 
Nottingham,  Countess  of ;  see 
Carey,  Kate 


Index 

O 

O’Neil,  Shan,  34,  35,  36,  58 
Onslowe,  Cordall,  257 
Oxford,  Countess  of ;  see  Cecil, 
Ann 

Oxford,  Countess  of ;  see  Trent- 
ham,  Elizabeth 

Oxford,  Edward,  Earl  of,  57,  83, 
84,  85,  87,  88,  89,  91,  118,  124, 
125,  126,  138,  139, 140,  180,  187, 
203 

P 

Paget,  Lord,  58 

Paget-Carey ;  see  Knevett, 
Katherine 

Parry,  Blanche,  7,  8,  39,  52,  64,  71, 
96,  132,  133,  136,  179 
Pembroke,  Countess  of  ;  see  Sidney 
Mary 

Pembroke,  Henry,  Earl  of,  16,  56, 
63,  108,  267 

Pembroke,  William,  Earl  of,  259, 
267,  268 

Perrot,  Lady ;  see  Devereux, 
Dorothy 

Perrot,  Thomas,  150,  15 1 
Petre,  William,  Sir,  32 
Philip,  King  of  Spain,  16,  136,  159, 
160 

Pilkington,  James,  72 
Popham,  Lord  Chief  Justice,  272 

R 

Radcliffe,  Alexander,  Sir,  232,  244, 
245,  248 


Index 


283 


Radcliffe,  Frances,  Lady,  34,  35,  36, 
37,  52,  58 

Radcliffe,  Humphrey,  Sir,  37,  38, 

41 

Radcliffe,  Margaret,  232,  244,  245, 
248,  249,  250,  255,  257 
Radcliffe,  Mary,  37,  38,  41,  42,  52, 
134,  136,  179,  187,  190,  195,  201, 
250,  275 

Raleigh,  Walter,  Sir,  137,  148,  150, 
I5L  152,  153,  167-175,211,231, 
244,  246 

Ratcliffe  ;  see  Radcliffe 
Rich,  Lady ;  see  Devereux,  Pene¬ 
lope 

Rich,  Lord,  126,  127,  143 
Russell,  Ann  (Countess of  Warwick), 
10,  16,  45,  54.55,56,57,  59,  133, 
250,  261,  276,  278 
Russell,  Ann  (Lady  Herbert),  219, 
248,  253,  254-261 
Russell,  Elizabeth,  219,  223,  254- 
261 

Russell,  John,  Lord,  254 
Russell,  Lady,  219,  253-261 
Rutland,  Edward,  Earl  of,  57,  87, 
88,  90,  187,  219 

Rutland,  Elizabeth,  Countess  of, 
187,  188,  189,  191,  192,  194,  195, 
196,  197 

Rutland,  Isabel,  Countess  of  ;  see 
Holcroft,  Isabel 

Rutland,  Roger,  Earl  of,  190, 
259 


S 

Sandes,  Lady ;  see  Bridges, 
Catherine 
Sandes,  Lord,  89 

Scrope,  Lady ;  see  Carey,  Phila¬ 
delphia 

Scrope,  Lord,  57 
Scudamore,  James,  83,  107 
Scudamore,  Mrs.  and  Lady  ;  see 
Shelton,  Mary 
Seintlow,  Lady,  27,  29,  30 
Seymour,  Jane,  Lady,  9,  17,  18,  20, 
21,  22,  23,  30,  41,  261 
Shakespeare,  William,  205,  230 
Sheffield,  Douglas,  Lady,  98,  99, 
104 

Shelton,  Mary,  76,  107,  131,  154, 
201,  237,  238,  254 
Shirley,  Thomas,  Sir,  180 
Shirley,  Thomas,  150,  180,  1 8 1 
Shrewsbuty,  Gilbert,  Earl  of ; 
see  Talbot,  Lord 

Sidney,  Henry,  Sir,  101,  102,  108 
Sidney,  Mary,  Lady,  101,  102,  108, 
109 

Sidney,  Mary,  102,  103,  104,  107, 
126,  133,  146,  267 
Sidney,  Philip,  Sir,  89,  103,  104, 
105,  106,  124,  125,  126,  127,  137, 
145,  146,  147,  21 1,  217,  232, 
266 

Simier,  Monsieur,  12 1,  122,  124 
Somerset,  Anne,  Duchess  of,  17,  32 
Southampton,  Countess  of ;  see 
Vernon,  Elizabeth 


Index 


284 

Southampton,  Henry,  Earl  of,  193, 
204,  229-232,  235,  236,  237,  238, 
244,  272 

Southwell,  Elizabeth,  250,  257 
Southwell,  Lady ;  see  Howard, 
Elizabeth 

Southwell,  Robert,  Sir,  144,  161 
Southwell,  Thomas,  89,  90,  144 
Spencer,  Elizabeth,  223-228 
Spencer,  John,  Sir,  223,  224,  225 
Spenser,  Edmund,  103,  154,  167, 
168,  169,  174 
Spring,  William,  Sir,  114 
Stafford,  Elizabeth,  76,  89, 1 15, 1 16 
Stokes,  Adrian,  19,  71 
Stubbes,  John,  129,  130,  142,  144, 
H5 

Suffolk,  Katherine,  Duchess  of,  67, 
68,  69,  70,  71,  138,  140,  141 
Sussex,  Thomas,  Earl  of,  34,  35,  36, 
37.  52,  53.  58,  n 7,  n8,  140 
Sweden,  Eric,  King  of,  33,  34,  55 

T 

Talbot,  Gilbert,  Lord,  98,  212 
Tarlton,  Richard,  80,  81 
Thompson,  Mrs.,  80 
Throckmorton,  Elizabeth,  132, 1 34, 
1 70-1 75 

Throckmorton,  Lady,  71 
Throckmorton,  Nicholas,  Sir,  25, 
52,  7i 


Tilney,  Edward,  1 19,  120 
Trentham,  Elizabeth,  134,  180 
Tyrrwhit,  Robert,  194,  198 

V 

Vavasour,  Ann,  182,  203 
Vavasour,  Frances,  180,  182 
Vere,  Elizabeth,  Lady,  180,  182, 
187,  203-208,  233 
Vere,  Mary,  Lady,  107,  132,  138— 
147 

Vernon,  Elizabeth,  204,  231,  232, 
235,  236,  237,  238,  251,  252 

W 

Walsingham,  Frances,  127,  21 1, 

251 

Walsingham,  Francis,  Sir,  127,  129 
Warner,  Edward,  Sir,  29,  30,  31 
Warwick,  Ambrose,  Earl  of  War¬ 
wick,  39,  54,  55,  57,  120 
Warwick,  Countess  of  ;  see  Russell, 
Ann 

Wharton,  Lord,  193,  194 
Willoughby,  Ambrose,  231 
Willoughby  de  Eresby,  Lord,  69, 
137,  138-147 

Willoughby,  Lady  ;  see  Vere,  Mary 
Windsor,  Lord,  25 
Worcester,  Countess  of ;  see 
Hastings,  Elizabeth 
Worcester,  Earl  of,  83,  89,  272 


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